


Paths in Starlight

by Blue_Sparkle, Hattedhedgehog



Series: Stardust [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventuring, Alternate Universe, Alternative Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternative Universe - Stardust, Aromantic Bofur, Arson, Badass Magician Dís, Bisexual Kíli, Captivity, Crossdressing, Dragons, Emotional Confusion, F/M, Fluff, Lady Dragon Smaug, M/M, Mutual Idiotic Pining, Pining Kili, Quests, Romance, Rowdy Tavern Violence, Sky Pirates, Slow Burn, Star Tauriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 53
Words: 226,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hattedhedgehog/pseuds/Hattedhedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili has never set foot in the magical land he was born in, but the search for a fallen star leads him beyond the Wall and into world of Arda. </p><p>The star he finds is not what he'd thought she'd be, and Kili is pulled into an adventure that takes him over hill and through the air, joins a crew of Sky Pirates to help them aid their King, and finds out the truth about his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Gathering Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the collaboration between hattedhedgehog and me, the Kíliel Stardust AU! Ratings and Tags will be adjusted as needed. 
> 
> Enjoy!

A storm was coming. One could see it in the steel grey of the sky stretching into every direction, dark and light in places where the clouds gathered, like the ripples on a sword. One could feel it deep inside one’s bones. This far above the world, Philip even was certain that he could feel the queer buzzing of power of it, in a way that wasn’t natural.

Well, it wouldn’t have been natural back in England, but Arda still held surprises for him, even after nearly seven years of living in it, and even after four years of technically being one of its ruling family.

The hall of the princess’ own quarters was ridiculously tall; the stone structures were solid and imposing, but the frame and patterns woven over the windows, as well as the glass plates, seeming too fragile to be real. That was something Philip had just accepted. Buildings looked like they were from a fairy tale, when you lived in a fairy tale world.

He only had eyes for the storm, and the mountains beneath it, tiny peaks far away from the one the city below was build into. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, until a voice called his name.

“Is everything alright?”

The princess was cool and magnificent, dressed for court as she was, looking very much like some ancient Queen or perhaps a Goddess from old legends. Like some magical being that belonged to the stones, the net of blue gems in her hair and the delicate silver jewellery adorning her body somehow only enhancing that impression.

Even the curve of her belly, emphasized by the cut of her dress, did not make her any less soft. Only her kind face gave her appearance a sort of regal warmth.

It was times like this when Philip wondered how he, a simple human blacksmith, had ended up as the lover and consort of such a person.

“I don’t know, I worry, my Blackbird,” he admitted. There was no use in lying. He’d learnt that Dís did not care for people trying to spare her the burden of complicated or sad matters.

Dís stepped closer, until he’d only have to reach out to take her hand.

“Tell me?”

Philip looked up at the sky. It was so quiet in these rooms, he wondered whether all the servants happened to be off-duty, or that the storm calmed all for the moment.

“I worry about the future,” he eventually started, slow, and unsure how to explain what he felt. “I worry about our child.”

He glanced at Dís’ belly, a vague fear in his chest. Was this what it meant to be an adult? Or was it a feeling all consorts experienced in an uncertain time? He hadn’t been this worried when their first child was born, and he’d barely been either for long at the time.

Dís smiled and her be-ringed hand curled over her belly.

“Our child will be fine. Or do you have some cause to worry?”

Philip’s frown did not ease off as he took her other hand in his.

“It’s our second child,” he started, “I’ve heard about the royal line’s history…”

The new monarch was not determined by the order of birth, as had always seemed sensible to Philip, but rather by anything but that. He’d read of it in the ancient tomes in the royal library, of how siblings and cousins had slaughtered one another, and how the firstborn ruling was sort of an accident more often than not.

Thrór’s siblings had either wandered away without a family and kept some contact, or were ruling too far away in a land of their own. Thráin had none, and Dís had never wanted the throne. Her brother Frerin had preferred adventures as well, leaving Thorin as the current heir to his father, and his father too.

It made Philip fear for what his children would do. The thought of his darling golden haired and golden eyed boy and the unborn child fighting, or even killing for the crown… he did not want to think of it.

Dís looked like she wanted to laugh.

“I promise you, none of the ancient history of any of the ruling houses will happen with the children of Durin. Not if they’ll grow to be who we’ll raise them to be.”

Her fingers squeezed against Philip’s in reassurance. He wanted to believe her. It was too easy to get caught up in stories, fairy tales from his own world, and the histories of his new one.

“There’s also… well, the thing about these creatures of the North…”

This time Dís’ face hardened and she did not react with a joke. The threat was real after all, even if it barely carried the same implications to Philip. Not knowing the full extent perhaps made him worry more.

“Our children will be safe,” Dís said firmly. “Nothing will happen to my children as long as Arda’s stones still stand.”

She didn’t reassure Philip that everything would be fine, and he wasn’t sure whether he should be glad for it. Was truth and uncertainty better than the royal line insisting nothing could throw them, that nothing could threaten their people? Philip supposed he preferred the truth, since he’d agreed to be a part of this.

“We will be safe,” he repeated, and Dís nodded.

They both turned to look over the land below. Dís’ eyes were fixed lower than Philip’s, watching the city and her land, where Philip had watched the gathering storm.

He wondered how this had happened, how the pretty, colourful world had suddenly turned to grey and black. Fairlytale worlds had their fairytale monsters, he supposed.

Somewhere in the distance lightning began to dance across the sky, too far away to even be audible. The way the wind was set, it would be upon them soon enough.

A storm was coming to Erebor.


	2. Homewards

Philip was pushing the mare hard, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He had to get away, he had to reach the Wall, and he couldn’t be caught, couldn’t afford for anyone to look at him and realize that the young man was the princess’ husband, that the bundle in his arms was a child of the royal line.

It was too dangerous. Some might help, out of love and loyalty to the crown, but how was Philip supposed to know whom to trust? He couldn’t even begin hope that he could take anyone in a fight; the sword on his hip was of little use to him. Even if he were a better swordsman, he could not fight with the tiny boy sleeping against his chest.

There was no time for anything, no time to rest or to do much more than occasionally check whether Kíli was asleep, whether he was secure in his sling against his father’s chest. The boy had cried before, afraid from all the noise and the jostling of a horse and fight, but he’d been blessedly asleep for a while now.

With no time to rest or drink or eat, Philip had neglected all but his mare’s needs and Kíli’s safety. He was too afraid to consider napping. He’d found a stream and quenched his thirst,but the water had nearly made him throw up, and he hadn’t managed to eat.

He was sure that there were provisions in his bag, dried meat and maybe bread, but he’d only paid attention to the bottles of milk. One had broken in the first few hours of riding away from the abandoned carriage. It had to last, Philip had no idea when he’d be able to find anything nourishing for Kíli.

None of this was supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be away from Dís, and he wasn’t supposed to only have one of his sons in his arms. Fíli was supposed to be here with him. Or maybe Philip was supposed to be there with the boy? That had been the plan.

Dís had been safe in the stronghold, where they’d lived near undisturbed these past few months. She was a capable warrior, from what Philip understood and had guessed from seeing her spar, but nobody in their right mind would allow a pregnant woman join in whatever bloody battles and ambushes had been happening. Philip had been glad for it, to have his wife safe, even if she hated not being able to stand alongside her brothers.

Fíli had been there with them, but his brave little boy wasn’t meant for the war, not at his age, not _ever_ if Philip was honest. Dís had been in contact with all the generals, had written letters to her cousins and communicated with her father and brothers. She was a capable strategist and a powerful spell-caster; she had been needed in the war’s planning. And Fíli at least should be safe and not confronted with that.

Dís had called for help in her family when they’d noticed that the mood of anxiety would not be good for him. Philip had known Lawara, the wife of one of the many cousins of Thráin. She’d been in court mostly, a quiet and clever magician, a little woman with dark blue hair, always shrouded in purple and crimson scarves. Only her eyes were bright, of an unnatural colour Philip had never quite managed to determine.

“Can you be a brave boy, Fíli?” Philip had asked his son when Lawara had taken his hand. “Can you stay with your great-auntie until we come join you with your little sibling?”

His brave golden boy had barely even looked nervous; had nodded solemnly and promised to listen to Lawara. He knew and liked her, and though he had promised he’d not be any trouble to stay with his father and pregnant mother instead, he had agreed.

Lawara would take him far away from the threat of discovery. She was powerful, and if she’d been the kind who could fight with her magic, she would have joined the war. Her sons and husbands were fighting at their King’s side, but her magic was mostly for defence and stealth.

He’d be safe, he _was_ safe.

Fíli was the one who was in the least danger right now, Philip was sure of it. And Kíli was perhaps right behind him, if he could manage it.

The war had taken a bad turn. Thráin had been lost, wounded or dying, and Frerin most certainly was dead, according to Dís’ reports. 

They were supposed to join Lawara, once Dís had recovered enough from the birth to travel. The plans changed when the princess’ brother died.

Dís had put Kíli in Philip’s arms, and had not joined him and the guards in the carriage.

“I must fight,” she said. “I’m my family’s best spell-caster, and if the war is lost… We cannot let the Arkenstone fall into the enemy’s hands, we _cannot_. I don’t know whether my grandfather and Thorin will be able to keep it safe for that much longer, they’ve grown weaker and weary.”

Philip had no choice but to watch his wife go. She was right; the Arkenstone was the Durins’ most powerful relic, both a weapon and a shield, but it could also be used for curses and dark purpose. If the enemy had it, the people of Erebor simply would not have the energy to resist them anymore. In the end it’d be safer for Dís to go.

Everything had gone wrong, though. Everything.

The King’s army could not win against the forces of their enemy at this point, the young prince Frerin slain in his attempts to rescue his father, Dís captured and beyond the reach of any power the royal line had left. Philip’s only option was to run.

He wished he could run towards Fíli, wished the roads were safe. They weren’t, and even close to the safe areas, the carriage had been attacked. He never wanted to see an Orc up close again.

But they were in every direction, they’d hunt him, and he could not reach Lawara and Fíli, or anyone else at that. The only direction he could go was West, to where his home had been once.

He’d forced his mare onwards and prayed that he was as close to the Wall as he hoped, prayed he’d find the hole, that it would still be there and that he’d find the place he grew up in.

England. Philip had thought he’d never return. Why would he want to, after all he’d seen? He had a wife and two beautiful children, he loved Arda, and there was still so much to see.

But if Arda was at war, overrun by monsters, it was no longer safe. _Keep Kíli safe_. That was the only thing that was important right now. The only thing Philip _could_ do, besides keeping himself alive. If _safe_ meant crossing over to the world Philip had left behind, and if it meant Kíli had to be raised as a human child, then so be it.

Philip would ride for another hour, before he reached the forest. Then he’d have to run, make his way towards the Wall and reach the place Kíli would live in from now on. He could make it, he would not be found. He could focus on fleeing, and block out all thoughts of worry and fear and the need to see his wife safe. He could do it for his son.

There was nothing more Philip could do.


	3. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's side of the story

Dead.

_The King is dead._

Thorin had seen him fall. He still felt the scream somewhere deep in his chest, clawing at his throat, still burning him from the inside. He didn’t even remember how long ago he had actually made that sound.

Erebor’s people were leaderless, Durin’s folk was lost. How else could it be, with his grandfather’s head rolling in the mud, crown still sticking on the brow. The brow that was caked with old blood, the word _Azog_ carved into the skin in a crude way. A final mockery to the people his enemies had hunted for so long now.

There were Orcs all around them, Thorin knew his people were still fighting, but at what cost? They wouldn’t gain anything anymore, even if they did not lose the War. Their King was dead, Thorin had failed.

He heard the strange ululating war cries of the creatures around him. Beasts made of darkness and spells and clay, and some of flesh. They would not attack him, he was still standing tall, his sword covered in their black blood. They were cowards perhaps, or maybe they just know that the prince could do nothing. Their enemies did share their general’s love for mockery.

The way was free, Thorin would be where his grandfather had fallen in just a few leaps. He could reach Azog, he could…

Could what?

There was no strength left in Thorin’s arms, and none in his heart. He was beaten, and he was barely even injured.

His sword felt to heavy in his hand, and the branch he’d taken for a shield when he’d lost his old one felt so useless now. Dís had cast a spell over it, for luck, before…. Before.

What was Thorin even supposed to fight for? Should he leap and get himself killed? For what? For his slain family? For the Kingdom he had failed to protect? His friends, who were down, among the soldiers and would fall as well? Should he get himself killed, so that the burden of the bloodied crown would fall onto his five year old nephew, if Fíli was even alive still? With how their family’s fortunes had turned, that seemed less certain now.

He was so tired of this. First his father had fallen, cursed, slashing his sword at shadows he could not fight off or flee from.

That was when they’d known the War had turned. Frerin, wonderful bright Frerin had jumped to save their father where nobody else would have managed to reach him, Frerin who had focused so much on this, that he could not react fast enough when Orcs fell upon him.

They’d grieved the both of them. Thrór had been so weak for days after, and Thorin had known in his heart that all was lost. Dís had joined them at the time, pale but determined to do this for her children. Her presence had made Thorin believe again. He’d thought things could turn back.

Now Dís was gone as well, carried away, fighting and cursing all around her, but it had done her no good against a true flood of enemies. Who knew where she was, if she lived. If she did, soon nobody would be left to rescue her, or help her break free through her own magic.

Thorin could not imagine living to the end of the day.

The King was dead.

His children and grandchildren were dead, or would die soon.

The Maker only knew whether the youngest princes would survive, whether their father could protect them.

They would die as soon as they were found, if Thorin failed, and he would fail.

He might as well sink down to the ground, or wait for his enemies to grow tired of taunting a broken man…

There was nothing that could turn this around, nothing that the Orcs could do to make it any worse anymore. Why struggle if the outcome could not be changed by the actions of a single tired prince?

Azog was howling commands, Thrór’s beheaded body lying at his feet.

Through the blur of sweat and grime Thorin could see the white figure stand there, bow down to rip something from the King’s body. Something radiant, something blue that shone and flickered like a mighty fire.

_No._

How wrong Thorin had been. Things could get worse, things could get worse, could grow and become catastrophes, could stretch beyond the sad fortunes of a broken royal house, and their hardy people. Things could stretch out over all of Arda.

The Arkenstone had ever been in the possession of the Line of Durin, their strongest weapon, potentially, and their mightiest shield, if wielded by the King. The King’s Jewel had not done them any good, with Thrór so tired, and so old and unable to unleash its power anymore, unwilling even.

With its help, the monarchs could guard their realm, should have been able to squash the dark creatures of the North as soon as they came close.

Creatures, who’s master would know how to drain the Arkenstone, how to feed on it and not be torn to shreds. A master who would use the jewel in greed, to gain more, and more, and be too strong to let roam free through Arda.

He could not let that happen.

Those few who survived the battle would not live on for long, should the Orc’s master decide to feed on them as well, to make sure none who had even a tiny droplet of royal blood in them would ever be a threat again.

Arda would not be safe…

The Arkenstone was bright, burning against the grey sky and the rocks and the dirty, clearing Thorin’s vision…

Burning.

The prince raised his sword once more, light in his head again. He roared his defiance as he ran at the white Orc, he flew those last few steps, unwilling to give up, unwilling to _die_ with the Arkenstone clutched in his grandfather’s slayer’s hand.

Azog’s too pale eyes turned on Thorin, and the prince sneered in his face.

If this was to be his last action, he would not die showing fear.

Thorin’s cry and the sudden swing of his branch to Azog’s head were all the distraction he needed.

The Arkenstone was the Durin’s jewel, it did what it was asked to. It followed simple commands, and the woven silent spells like the ones their mother had taught Thorin and Dís when they were so much younger. And Thorin did command.

“ _Burn_ ”

The Arkenstone heard and obeyed.

For one second Thorin was sure that Azog would catch himself and swing his mace down on his face, ending it right then. He never got the chance. The Arkenstone burned, and the pale hand holding it could not withstand such a flame.

Azog’s scream of anguish made Thorin’s head ring, but he could not turn away or try to cover his face and ears. His eyes were fixed on the massive ball of blue and silver flames, where the Arkenstone tore at the Orc’s flesh.

_Fly to where they can’t find you_ , Thorin thought, _Never shine until one of Durin’s line finds you_.

Again, the Arkenstone obeyed, one last flash a gust of wind knocked all who stood too close back, and then it flew up, quicker than a burning arrow, up into the sky, a blue trail behind it.

Azog fell to the ground, clutching what was left of his arm, roaring, weaponless now. Defeated.

The battle turned then, the armies had seen the flame, they had seen Thorin and they had seen Azog fall. It gave them strength, at least. Same as it terrified their enemy enough to retreat for just long enough to be overpowered.

The battle didn’t last long after that. Thorin saw how Azog was dragged back, screaming and cursing and what was left of his arm smoking and crumbling still.

He was gone from view before Thorin had to turn away from the sight.

By the time it was over, no moving Orc was left on the fields. They all lay dead, or had run. It didn’t feel like a victory. Thoring had lost nearly all of his family. His grandfather lay beheaded at his feet. So many of their people had fallen as well.

Those who lived were looking up to Thorin now, watching him as they moved around to find what they could do to help the wounded.

Thorin could not face them, not yet. He didn’t know what to tell them. Their King was dead, and he would have known.

Above the stars started to appear, one by one. The Arkenstone’s slow and steady ascent still painted a line over the sky, making it look like a shooting star turned the wrong way.

He took one last moment of rest, of watching the blue flames in the sky, and then the King turned to face his people, and walked down to speak to his generals.


	4. Talismans

It had taken three days to catch his breath and finally have a quiet moment. In the seven years Philip had been away, the little town he’d grown up in hadn’t changed at all. In some way it had been frightening, in more ways than what he’d been through.

It was as if the years he had spent in Arda, exploring the land and living as part of the royal family were nothing. As if the war had never happened and the shadows and fears chasing Philip had just been foolish nightmares, and Dís a pleasant dream. If little Kíli hadn’t slept in his arms, Philip would have believed that he’d gone mad.

The people had changed at least, so Philip’s hold on reality didn’t feel completely wrong. The townspeople had aged, and there were children he didn’t remember seeing before. Here and there he glimpsed young adults that might have been the neighbours’ sons and daughters. Signs of age were such a comfort to Philip’s tired mind that he’d nearly cried. He managed to keep his feelings in check, though, and he had been successful in avoiding most questions.

He made a strange picture perhaps, walking into town with his hair longer than he’d ever let it grow before leaving England, a too light traveling bag, and a babe fussing in his arm. His clothes were dusty and a little bit frayed at the edges, but they were of good quality,though Arda’s fashion looked slightly out of place in a quaint English town. The sword at his side earned him wide-eyed looks, and Philip was too tired to care. He had forgotten how rare such a thing used to be in his town.

He heard the rumours and questions taking shape in anyone’s mind, but they did not stop him that first day, thought their obvious curiosity and desire for information was almost unbearable. Reactions from the townsfolk who recognised him were mostly cries of surprise and joy at his return after his sudden disappearance to travel, and questions about how he was and where he was from.

Philip’s insistence that he was too tired and hungry had been believable enough that even the nosiest let it go. The talk spread through town quicker than Philip could reach his old family home. By the time his feet found their way to the old green door, the light of day was already fading, and he was expected.

Aunt Ruth was the last of his relatives to live in the town of Wall, and she had the old house all for herself. She frowned in confusion as she took in Philip’s appearance, and the bundle in his arms, but she loved her brother’s family well enough and didn’t hesitate to assure Philip that the house was his as much as it had been before. She ushered him into the house and bustled upstairs to start preparing one of the old rooms. 

Philips legs were trembling from the exhaustion of travel, and his stomach cramped in pain. His flight had allowed him no time to eat, and Kíli was starting to fuss. Loath as he was to part with his son, he handed Kíli over to his aunt. There was no way he could wash himself and eat dinner while carrying the child around.

As soon as he was in private and had undressed to wash the dust and sweat of his skin, he began to sob. There were barely and tears to spare for a proper cry, but he still shook with effort to keep himself under control. The water in the basin was cool and pleasant, so it was easy to wash of any signs of his grief. By the time Philip had put on the old clothes Aunt Ruth managed to gather for him, he looked calm and presentable, if not a little thin and tired.

He avoided any inquiries about his wanderings, and after a while Aunt Ruth decided to just leave him to his food and played with Kíli instead.

Philip barely managed to walk up the few stairs to his new room that night, and he only put Kíli down to sleep on the blankets next to him and kicked off his shoes before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

The next days were work. Turned out that Ruth had not put much work into the extra rooms she’d never needed, so Philip had to make it habitable and clear it seven years worth of dirt. There was work to do with the furniture, and attempt to gather all he’d need for Kíli. People raised eyebrows and whispered about his complete lack of explanation, but they’d not turn down somebody they remembered a good lad, and who still seemed to be a decent sort. Especially not since he had a babe and no mother to take care of him.

For the most part, Philip had to beg for old scraps and children’s things that weren’t needed anymore, but he also bought what he thought would be better. The whispers grew louder when Philip paid in strange foreign coins nobody had ever seen before, with runes nobody could read. Silver was silver though, and Philip knew he’d traded as well as was possible with the value of coins he’d taken.

He begged for work as well. The coins would not last forever, and he was reluctant to spend so much of Arda’s currency. Who knew whether he wouldn’t return there soon?

He promised his services in exchange for food or items he needed, before he’d try finding real work.

On the third night, he found that he wasn’t too tired to stay up. He sat on his bed then, with Kíli dozing in a cradle he’d managed to obtain from charitable neighbours with no further need for it. For the first time since his flight Philip also could check what he’d carried with him.

Most of his baggage consisted of clothes. Among the jumbled fabrics he even discovered a toy for Kíli. There were empty containers for milk and water, and one shirt Philip could use. The rest were coins, one small slim knife, feathers, and a handful of talismans.

Philip wasn’t sure about the knife, but he knew that the latter two were magic. He could feel the talismans crackle with subtle energy, even outside of the borders of Arda. The talismans were things Dís had made herself; luckbringers, she’d called them. They weren’t powerful at all, and mostly dabbles for any spellcaster, but to Philip they meant the world.

He could feel Dís in them; the spells she’d woven into the cords remained unbroken. They would not feel that way if the magic had left them, and such magic would only leave by the will or death of the one who bound them.

The talismans weren’t silent. They were steady and strong and alive, and Philip firmly believed that it could only mean that Dís was not only alive, but also unharmed. He refused to let himself think otherwise.

He sat on his bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped in front of his mouth as he stared at the talismans in thought. Philip had no idea how to use them or whether they’d even work their magic in England. 

The feathers though, they’d do what they were supposed to do.

They were ravens’ feathers, so dark that one felt as if the blackness could pull one in, like little rips in the fabric of the world. Complete darkness, but with a dark blue shine at the very edges. To Philip they looked sinister, as the birds they belonged to had. But Dís had always laughed and explained that it was because he did not have Durin’s blood in him. To her, Erebor’s Ravens and the feathers were something she instinctively found beautiful. Both held magic that ran in her blood after all.

Philip took her word on it, though he’d never wanted to test the feather’s magic itself. Until now.

One could travel on a Raven’s wings with these. Anywhere at all, across the wall and from one world to another if one so wished. 

_To where Dís was._

Philip was tempted to do it. He really was.

He shook himself out of those thoughts. He couldn’t use the feathers, not with Kíli sleeping by his side as if his little life had been as pleasant as any babe’s should. Hadn’t Philip gone through so much trouble to make sure Kíli would be safe? He could not take his child back to where the danger was. 

These feathers were the most precious objects Philip had brought from Arda, best not to waste them. Best to keep them, until he knew it would be safe to return.

Until Kíli was old enough to return on his own.

Philip carefully gathered up the feathers and wrapped them into a soft handkerchief, before tucking them into his bag. The talismans he left out; they were just silly charms to anyone outside of Arda. They still felt like Dís, though.

Very gently, Philip picked up one of the talismans with tiny blue stones woven into its pattern, and placed it on the pillow Kíli slept on.

“Your Mum’s watching over you,” Philip promised the baby, and brushed a hand over his dark downy hair. Kíli wasn’t disturbed by the touch at all, only smacked his lips in his deep sleep. Philip hoped his dreams were of warmth and contentment.

The simplest and smallest Philip took for himself. It was a woven net, barely wider than a ring, with a tiny pattern of glass pearls like dewdrops knotted into it. It would be very easy to tie around his wrist discretely, and he’d have Dís’ talisman with him at any time without being too obvious about it.

He felt some familiarity when he brushed his finger over it too. He blew out his candle, and lay down on the bed. The stars were very bright through the cracks in the window shutters. Philip had always preferred sleeping in darkness, but the stars were the same as they were in Arda, in how they stood.

He could watch them, and pretend that he was home.


	5. Runes and Ships

The streets of Belegost were busy and thriving with life. Business had return to the town very soon after the war, though perhaps it had never really left. Even with how many had gone to fight for their King and their land, Dwalin supposed that it was impossible to drain the place.

He walked past the stalls and chattering merchants, up through the steep and narrow streets. He didn’t have to try and push past anyone anymore, the old dance of not running into anyone redundant. He’d been taller than most others when he was still a young lad, but by now he’d also gained bulk and scars. People did not overlook him, and didn’t try elbowing past him at least.

The scar across Dwalin’s face throbbed a little as he walked, but it was healed over by now and should be barely noticeable soon. At least, in how it felt, Dwalin doubted that the skin would heal perfectly without the use of magic stronger than he felt was worth it.

Dwalin had never felt like he was particularly handsome, but the smashed nose and the cut made him look a little vicious, he felt. He didn’t like seeing it in the mirror just yet, it reminded him too much of how he’d gotten it. That would pass as well, he supposed. There was little Dwalin could change about anything right now, so he just accepted it. 

The inn he was headed for was one of the nicer ones, and with most of the rooms located high above the street and facing the patio. It was even quiet, which seemed like a small luxury in such a bustling town. This early in the day the bar on the first floor was near empty. The innkeeper’s wife was sweeping the floor near the fireplace, and she gave Dwalin a quick smile before returning to her work. Dwalin glanced at her, and then briefly two merchants chewing on their meals. None of them were paying Dwalin any attention, but it was hard to shake the caution he’d had carried with him for too long.

One guard sat on the stairs, halfway up to the first floor. He didn’t even rise as he shifted to give Dwalin the room to pass, but he did give Dwalin a salute. It still felt strange to be honoured like that, outside of his family’s lands.

The rooms Dwalin had been asked to go to were fit for a travelling lord with a handful of servants, though perhaps low for the King of one of Arda’s oldest nations. The first thing Dwalin noticed was how nice everything was, even though the furniture would never compare to what he’d seen in Erebor’s palaces. It was nearly too much for someone who’d spent month after month travelling with soldiers and not having walls around him at all.

The picture before Dwalin was nearly peaceful, as if he had walked in on a little family. There were no servants there at the moment, to attend them, as it had been the last time he had visited. There was a rug near the largest window, and a boy was sitting underneath, his back leaned against the wall.

Fíli was still too young to understand the full extent of what had been going on, but he was also clever for his age. He turned a building block in his hands, staring at the colourful sides very intently, as if they’d reveal him his fortunes. He’d not been a particularly wild child before, though now he might be a little too quiet. Dwalin wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He had little time to wonder as the woman sitting with the prince rose as soon as he entered.

Lawara was there in front of Dwalin in a few quick steps, reaching out her soft warm hands. Dwalin sometimes thought that they were the first thing he remembered of his childhood, when his mother was still the tallest woman in the world, and he did not have to bow down to hug her tight.

“Oh, my little pebble!” she called and curled her arms around him as well as she could.

She was short, shorter even than Balin, but Dwalin still felt small when his mother was there to comfort him. Even if he wasn’t sure why he needed it.

When they parted Dwalin had a moment to look her over, and he saw how she did the same. There had not been an opportunity to do so in a quiet time, when he wasn’t wearing armour and she was in something other than her dusty traveling coat.

She was wearing her beautiful robes once more, and her hair unadorned except for the single red bead behind her left ear. It was the one thing she’d always worn, the little gift Fundin had made her before their wedding. Seeing it made Dwalin’s heart ache. It was nearly as if his father was still alive, as if nothing had changed in the war.

Lawara took Dwalin’s hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs over the scars and the tattoos. Dwalin’s first instinct would have been to pull them away, to hide their roughness and cross his arms. His mother would not care though, so he sighed and waited for her to be done. To look up at him with sad eyes again.

She smiled though, and reached up to touch Dwalin’s cheek.

“You’ve grown up so fast,” she said, and it sounded like she had not expected it to happen.

Dwalin turned his head to avoid her eyes, but did not lean away from her touch.

“Haven’t been a child for a long time,” he reminded her.

“No,” Lawara agreed. “But look at you.”

Her thumb traced the skin just below the scar running over Dwalin’s nose and cutting through his eyebrow. She had not wanted her sons to go to fight, even though she knew there was no way they would shirk their duties to the crown and family.

“And now you’ll be off, exploring the world and finding a trade for yourself.”

For a moment Dwalin wanted to give her a sheepish gaze, but Lawara did not look upset at all.

“I’m proud of you,” she just said. “Though I do ask you to write honest letters when you’re far gone. Balin thinks he’s being clever and diplomatic, but I taught him his skills, I know when things are less than what he’d like them to be.”

Dwalin cracked a smile at that, and Lawara’s eyes narrowed in her quiet laughter. She straightened the lapels of his vest and looked him over once more, face turning serious again. 

“There still has been no information on Dís’ whereabouts,” she said so quietly that only Dwalin would hear.

He felt the old numbness settling in his heart at the words. Dwalin hadn’t been there when Dís had been abducted, he had not seen her since the day he’d left the palace, and she’d been getting ready to leave for a safe place to have her child in peace. Dwalin didn’t even know what had become of that child, but he knew he couldn’t trust the rumours, _couldn’t_ believe them.

The guard had all been slain in an ambush, but neither Philip nor the baby had been among the casualties. Besides, their enemies would be too happy to flaunt the matter if they had the little heir in their clutches.

“We will find her,” Lawara promised, though her expression was tired. Who knew _when_ the Princess would be found after all.

Dwalin glanced back at Fíli, who paid the adults no mind and stacked one wooden block on the next. He only had his uncle left now.

Lawara watched quietly as well, until she sighed and patted Dwalin’s elbow.

“Go to Thorin, I will mind Fíli while you talk.”

Dwalin gave her a curt nod, and went to find the door leading up towards the inn’s best rooms.

Thorin had chosen the small study, which wasn’t meant to be a visiting lord’s bedroom for the night. It was still space enough to allow for a bed and a desk and three chairs, though the slanted ceiling made it hard to stand straight everywhere. The large round window took up most of the wall, and Thorin was sitting right in front of it, staring at nothing and one hand toying with smooch red stones absently.

His smile wasn’t forced when he saw Dwalin enter, but Dwalin did see how tired his oldest friend was. He briefly considered bowing to Thorin, as he was supposed to now, but decided against it. No need to remind Thorin of what had happened at every turn.

“Come closer, Dwalin, and take a look at the runes,” Thorin said, and let the stones fall into a flat bowl.

Dwalin frowned a little; always weary of how much trouble rune reading was to him. He leaned over the bowl, and tried to make sense of the positions and letters on the stones, but he could not find a single recognizable shape.

“I can’t read that,” he admitted, and to his surprise Thorin scoffed.

“I can’t read them either!” he told Dwalin, and stared down at the stones.

“Each time I try to find out about the Arkenstone’s whereabouts, it just refuses to give an answer. The stone doesn’t shine anymore, so we can’t look for stars that aren’t supposed to be there, and as it rose it did not show any signs of falling down again.”

Thorin gathered the stones up in his palm and looked at them.

“At least it’s useless to our enemies should they find it first. Only one of the line of Durin could restore it’s magic.”

Dwalin reached for a jug standing on the table, and poured a cup for Thorin. It looked like very dark wine, so he did not take a cup himself. It wouldn’t do to be drunk so soon before he was to leave on a ship as a new member of its crew.

Thorin accepted the cup and let the runes clatter into the bowl once more.

“When I ask for Dís, they only tell me that she’s alive and is feeling well. When I ask for her child, or for Philip, they tell me they are gone from the world, but alive.”

At each statement Thorin picked up the runes and cast them, and Dwalin was surprised at the last.

“Do you think Philip carried the baby to his homeland?”

Thorin rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“I hope so. They are safe in England, even if the child belongs here, and not there. I hope Philip has the sense to return, whenever that might be.”

Dwalin nodded. He didn’t know Philip as well as he should have, but he was sure that he’d do what’s best for the child.

He stared over Thorin’s shoulder and at the rooftops of Belegost. He could see the port tower from where he was standing, with a tall ship resting at its very top. The Cloud Jumper, the ship he’d work on for half a year, before renewing his contract or finding another. 

Thorin stared at the runes, then rubbed his hands as if to brush off dust.

“There’s nothing I can do about any of this,” Thorin said quietly. “But I can focus on the here and now.”

He stood, nearly as tall as Dwalin now, and reached into his coat.

“There are treaties that have to be renewed with the Iron Hills. I do not trust messengers to get there safely yet, and I do not trust them to recognize spies.”

He handed Dwalin a small envelope bearing the royal seal of Durin.

“You however, will be on the safest and swiftest road to the Iron Hills soon, and you know Dáin personally.”

Thorin gave Dwalin a crooked grin.

“Besides, you trust no one, and no one would fool you.”

Dwalin made a face, but he had to admit that it was true. It was hard to gain his trust, but at least people could rely on him for that. He took the envelop and tucked into one of his vests inner pockets.

“I’ll make sure it gets there safely,” he promised, and Thorin managed a weak smile, though he did look a little relieved as well.

Dwalin would do anything to ease the burden of being King, and being alone, but he did not know how. All he could was be loyal to the crown, and his oldest friend (though he supposed, they were now the same thing), and hope that Thorin would ask for him if he ever needed anything Dwalin could give.

Thorin stared at the cup of wine Dwalin had poured him before.

“This is a nice wine,” he commented, “but I feel like having some of the foul brew they sell in the markets.”

The grin he gave Dwalin was nearly the same as it had been years ago, when everything was better.

“What do you say, will you spend the last day as a free man wandering Belegost with me?”

Dwalin snorted.

“I’ll still be free.”

“But you will serve on a little ship and _work_ ,” Thorin said and patted Dwalin’s shoulder.

Dwalin scoffed an “It isn’t _little_!” but Thorin shook his head and smiled. 

“Come on, we will all go and enjoy.”

He shrugged off his coat and put on a simple leather one, looking like a soldier and not a noble with his traveling clothes. Then Thorin paused and looked pained.

“I do not know what to do for Fíli,” he admitted. “I can’t possibly be a good father to him. I love him as if he were my own son, but I’m all he has now, and it’s my fault too…”

“No,” Dwalin interrupted him firmly.

“No Thorin, that isn’t true. You won’t replace his father, but you are his King, and his uncle. That is all you have to be.”

Dwalin put his hands on Thorin’s shoulders, at a loss for words. He never knew how to comfort anyone, but he knew he had to try.

“Fíli loves you, you know that. He always liked it when you were around, and you just… just be there for him?”

Thorin stared at the buttons of Dwalin’s vest, then nodded slowly.

“All I can do for now…” he agreed.

“That’ll be enough,” Dwalin promised, and Thorin nodded again.

He straightened a little, and walked towards the door.

“We can take Fíli to one of the toy stalls,” Dwalin suggested, and Thorin looked a little relieved at the suggestion. 

“He’d like that, surely. Shall we then?”

Dwalin watched him take the first few steps down the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder, towards where the sky ships were docked. He took just a second to stare at the Cloud Jumper, then turned his back and followed Thorin.


	6. Birds of a Feather

The first thing Philip did upon returning home for lunch was brew up some tea. He didn’t even particularly like most of the leaves he had in the store, but it helped having something warm to drink as he looked over the orders at the kitchen table.

The previous owner of the store had gotten old, and said he preferred having some time to himself, so he had gladly given the key to his best assistant when Philip had asked. He’d not only been a valuable help with doing the physical work, but he also had been good with numbers and calculating all the townspeople’s demands.

“Don’t remember you having such a bright head,” the owner had laughed as he watched Philip go through the books.

Philip had only smiled at him and hadn’t commented. How was he even supposed to respond? That he’d helped Dís and her cousin Balin as part of his princely duties in Arda? That they’d taught him how to handle trade of an entire city, let alone one small shop in a tiny rural town?

It was good to have the job, even if it was dull at times. Philip was respected and nobody talked about him disappearing and returning with a child anymore. He had a steady income, and the work could be done at home if needed, or in a place where a little boy could sit and play.

That had been the only thing Philip had considered when trying to find a means of supporting himself without Aunt Ruth’s savings. He had no interest in letting some nanny raise his son while he did anything but that. He wanted to be there for him, and take care as much as possible. He wanted to make sure that Kíli grew up into a boy and then a man Dís could be proud of. He wanted Kíli to be someone who’d not feel too out of place in Arda, should he ever return.

That had been a struggle for Philip. He knew he could not let Kíli grow to feel out of place in England either. Who knew for how long he’d have to stay here, after all.

Sometimes Philip could forget that Kíli wasn’t completely of his world. Sometimes he was just a boy, like all the other children in the town, and nothing was off about him at all.

But sometimes he would toy with his mother’s talisman and stare at it as if he sensed something off. Sometimes his eyes would shine golden, even though there was no light falling on them and they should not be anything but brown.

After the tea was done, Philip poured some milk in a small pot and set to heat it up. He hadn’t even finished putting away the milk to return to his books, when he heard the noise of the front door being opened and slammed shut again.

“Papa!” Kíli ran into the kitchen with his little school bag swinging in his hand.

He went for a quick hug, and then skipped around the table to put his jacket and the bag on one of the chairs. Only then did he sit down, smiling and swinging his legs.

“A great day at school, I take it?” Philip asked, and opened the cupboard to look for a mug.

“It really was!” Kíli proclaimed loudly. “I can count to twenty now! I was one of the first who could today.”

“That’s wonderful,” Philip praised him and filled the mug with hot milk to hand it to the boy.

“Even the schoolmistress said I was good,” Kíli said, very proud of himself. He drank the milk quietly for a while, watching as Philip sorted through the orders he had gotten in the shop.

“There were some strange crows near the school, too.”

“Strange crows?”

There were some of the birds flying around in the town, though most of them stuck to the fields around it.

Kíli frowned at Philip.

“They were really big, and they had strange voices. They also had big puffy feathers here.”

Kíli waved his fingers in front of his throat.

Philip stared at the letters in his hand. Ravens, most likely. Not _that_ unusual, but Ravens had been ever present in Erebor. Dís used to speak to them, and laughed as she told Philip that all Ravens were cousins.

The thought of them knowing who Kíli was, was a strange one. Though really, it was foolish to have some mere birds have Philip think of a connection to the other world.

“They looked very mean and as if they could prick you really hard. But the others dared me to get close and they didn’t fly away or do anything really. They seemed nice.”  
Ravens watching his son… it was a strange thought, and if they were in Arda it might have been normal. Not in England though. In England that was something that just made Kíli seem different, like part of the place he belonged.

Instead of pursuing that train of thought, Philip decided to turn to the other matter.

“Why are you doing things because your friends dared you to again?” he asked instead, hearing the resignation in his own voice.

Kíli stared at Philip as if he couldn’t quite figure out what the problem was.

“Because they asked to?”

He sounded so sincere, and Philip had tried to explain it to him before. He only sighed this time.

“Promise me to never do anything dangerous.”

“Of course!”

“Good. Now go wash your hands and take a nap? We can have lunch later.”

Kíli finished his milk quickly and dashed off to go upstairs and to his room, forgetting his jacket and the school bag. Philip stood to hang both up carefully and smiled.

He didn’t know what he had expected when Kíli started growing older, but even though it terrified him, he was glad that his son wasn’t fully human.


	7. Reluctant Favours

The familiar creaking of the Wind Dancer was all that kept Dwalin from doing something rash and loud that very moment. And even so, he knew that the levels of annoyance he was reaching would lead to him doing stupid things. Soon.

The whole thing was Balin’s fault. He was the one Dwalin was doing damn favour for. 

No, one couldn’t even call it that. It was not a _favour_ to have your older brother bully you into something. Apparently the ‘favour’ would resolve the issue which had been distressing Dori, and Dori was in the business, which meant she was family. And obviously one could not let family down and abandon them in need.

Even if said family’s _real_ family was the reason why Dwalin felt the urge to throw a man over board.

Dori was a valuable member of the little business Dwalin was part of. He and his sky ship caught lightning, and delivered goods, occasionally, while Balin and the rest of the on ground personnel took care of anything legal or the actual trade. Dori was the best at negotiating anything, using her successful tactic to politely scaring anyone who tried to trick them.

Her younger sister was Balin’s own apprentice, and Dwalin was sure that Ori would be as good as her master in a few years, despite being so young.

What Dwalin had liked to overlook about the family,though, was the brother. The brother whose line of work was of… dubious legality, of the kind which Dwalin did not approve of. The brother who harmed the crown (Dwalin suspected, who knew what kind of shady things he got up to), or at least firmly refused to aid it, unless it also helped his sisters and serving Thorin was just a coincidence.

The brother who somehow had gotten into some trouble in Belegost, of the kind that forced him to leave the town quietly and as quick as possible. And somehow both Dori _and_ Balin had decided that it would be a great idea to have him join Dwalin on the ship. Just for as long as it took for things to calm down a little.

Dwalin would usually have put a stop to it, with his firm stance on useless passengers he didn’t even like. His ship wasn’t for tourists and pretty cruise rides. The problem was, he _had_ been looking for a new first mate, and of course Nori had just enough experience to fill the position.

It was a position that he was annoyingly qualified for, and so good at that even after a short trip Balin wouldn’t let Dwalin kick the man off the ship. 

And so it came, that Nori Rivers, first mate of the Wind Dancer, was staying to continuously drive Dwalin up the wall.

Dwalin growled quietly as he watched the slim man prance about on deck, laughing and chatting with his crew, flicking a knife between his fingers. He was always smirking when Dwalin watched him, too cocky and sure that he could get away with anything.

His sisters had vouched for him after all, and the captain’s older brother as well. Dwalin himself might be to blame for how sure Nori was of himself, since he always threatened and hissed at him for doing things he didn’t approve of, but in the end he’d never been able to carry through with his threats. 

The first time Dwalin had grabbed Nori’s collar to inform him of how his behaviour was not tolerated on Dwalin’s ship, the redhead had looked tense. But Dwalin had a rule about not doing any harm to crewmembers, (with the exception of breaking up a fight), so he had let go of Nori each time. No crew member deserved that from their captain, wanted onboard or not. Apparently Nori was very used to rough folk though, and he must have taken Dwalin’s backing off as a sign of weakness or lack of authority. After that, he didn’t listen to Dwalin anymore, ecvept when the large man commanded the ship. 

There’d been moments when Dwalin had nearly snapped.

The time he’d found Nori tinkering with some barrels below deck, and he’d nearly thrown him into one of the tiny storage cabins that could double as cells. He’d not tolerate thieves among his crew.

“If you think you can get away with contraband on my ship-,” Dwalin had growled at Nori when the man had laughed and pointed out that his hands and pockets were empty.

Nori had laughed, _laughed_ in his captain’s face despite Dwalin gritting his teeth just few inches from his nose.

“What? As if you’re not smuggling over Angaband. For our grand King no less.”

Dwalin had dropped Nori as if burned, angry that he could not deny it.

“Don’t worry, I’m not harming you or our crew in any way,” Nori promised, smiling sweetly.

It had nearly been enough for Dwalin to turn on him again.

It wasn’t _their_ crew, Nori wasn’t even supposed to be on the ship. That was the less important thing though.

“You’ll keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” Dwalin had growled instead. He’d turned away to leave Nori there, not quick enough to miss the eye rolling.

Dwalin had been much angrier when the Wind Dancer had stayed in Belegost at her home dock for a little. Nori had not left the ship, so Dwalin assumed he’d not be able to do any damage at all. Despite himself Dwalin even had to admit that he was fine with letting Nori handle the ship as senior officer while he was off board, though that was largely due to her being in a safe place.

Dwalin managed to do all he had to on land, and he had talked to his brother and his mother. He was relaxed when he climbed up to his ship, though all pleasant thoughts fled his mind when he came on deck to find young prince Fíli there, standing next to Nori and holding _Nori’s knives_ , while the thief showed him how to throw them.

Dwalin was proud that he didn’t snap in front of the prince, but when he did round on Nori the thief nearly stumbled and fell over loose gear in his haste to get away.

It’d been the first time there was something of a shouting match between the two, and thankfully also the last.

Dwalin had loomed over Nori, angry and threatening despite the barrel Nori had put between them in a quick leap. He’d bellowed at him for putting the prince in danger like that, and about how he could not be trusted with sharp objects around a young child, who happened to be Erebor’s only heir.

Nori had grown increasingly defensive, sneering at Dwalin’s accusations and insisting that even a prince should know how to fight with whatever he was good at, and _just because certain stuck up captains couldn’t aim, it didn’t mean that the entire family was hopeless_. Besides, twelve wasn’t too young, and it wasn’t like he’d handed a toddler a knife.

By the time both of them started running out of steam the crew was gathered around them, watching. They all thought they were being rather clever about it too, standing around with ropes and tools in hand, as if they were doing work, but everyone was staring too intently.

Bofur had whispered something to Mirra, both fighting a grin and watching Nori. Nearly everyone else seemed more entertained than intimidated, and Dwalin had to admit to himself that his behaviour was bordering on unprefessional. He just did not trust Nori, and the constant presence of such a person on his ship, along with everyone else warming up to him and now even Fíli laughing at his stories was just too much.

Dwalin ordered everyone else back to work and made to return to his cabin, exhausted. He noticed how Nori stared at the ground for a while, pale and tense around the eyes, before turning and slipping away into the lower decks.

Dwalin did his best to not react to Nori at all. He was a good first mate, he wasn’t cruel to the crew, he was friendly and joked around when he wanted to, and he grew to know the ship better than Dwalin would have liked him to. He would stay for however long it would take Balin to see reason, and until then Dwalin would try to accept his presence.

There were things Nori did every day though, tiny insignificant annoyances, ways in which it showed who and what he was, and things that would have made Dwalin refuse to hire him if he’d only had a choice.

One thing that Dwalin truly did not want to deal with was how Nori acted when they made port. He kept the entirely wrong sort of company, and flirted and conversed with people Dwalin didn’t want anywhere near his crew.

If Nori had given him any reason to, Dwalin would have refused to allow him to join the crew in their shore leave. But Dwalin would not break his own rules out of spite. He would not lower himself to that level.

He could tell Nori to watch himself though, even if Nori would most likely laugh at Dwalin’s attempt to contain the damage Nori could do. 

Dwalin found Nori at the prow, away from the crew, his long braid swinging in the wind with every movement. As he spotted Dwalin approaching he leapt up onto the rail, sitting down as if it was the most comfortable seat in the world, with one hand holding on to the rigging loosely.

He gave Dwalin a smile, and Dwalin wondered whether he’d done it to prove that he wasn’t afraid of anything, or whether he thought Dwalin had planned to grab him. Either way, it was a foolish move and only served to prove how Nori was too reckless for the ship. Anything proved that as far as Dwalin was concerned.

“How can I serve you oh Captn’ o’ mine?” Nori mocked Dwalin as he approached.

Dwalin growled at him, already failing to not raise to the bait.

“I want you to behave when you go on land,” he told Nori, deciding to not beat around the bush in this. “I know you still pursue whatever got you into trouble in the first place, and I’m telling you now, I will _not_ help you out of anything that puts my ship or my crew in danger. So really think about whether it’s worth it. Is that understood?”

Nori’s smile froze and twisted as Dwalin spoke, then the corners of his mouth turned down. He looked bitter in and even _hurt_ in a way Dwalin had never seen him before, and if it were anyone but Nori Dwalin would have felt guilty for it. But it _was_ Nori, and Nori had tricked people like Dori and Balin into thinking he was worth all the fuss. He could not let this go now.

Nori evaluated Dwalin momentarily, then turned his head to stare back across the sky. Clouds moved past them, smaller wisps of white, and giant white masses further above them. He didn’t reply, and somehow the silence started to grow uncomfortable though Dwalin didn’t want to snap and push Nori for an answer.

Finally Nori let out a sigh and turned back. He wasn’t looking Dwalin in the eye, but stared at one of the buttons of his vest.

“Don’t worry about me causing any trouble, captain,” Nori told him. “Don’t worry about me doing anything at all. I won’t be going off board, so there’s nothing you need to be concerned about.”

His voice was … odd, somehow, and Dwalin realized that there was none of Nori’s usually light mockery in it. He usually seemed to be making fun when he spoke, even when Dwalin knew he was being serious.

Well, now he _sounded_ serious as well, and Dwalin wasn’t sure why that bothered him.

He didn’t hold Nori back when he slid off the rail and past him quietly.

Dwalin knew he should feel relieved that he didn’t have to worry about this now, but all he felt was guilt for making Nori act like that. Which most likely was what Nori had wanted to achieve, he reasoned. 

_But did he really?_ a small part of his mind asked before he could shoo the notion away. 

Leaning against the rail separating the decks Dwalin watched Nori walk past the other crew members. He ignored Bofur’s jokes, and only whispered something quietly when Óin called out to him. Again, Dwalin watched him disappear below deck. He seemed to do it most of the times he tried to be alone.

Dwalin usually ignored what Nori was up to, but it was hard to break the habit of watching his crewmembers. He did recall Nori going there when he was being quiet, when he wanted to hide or when he wasn’t up to the crew’s shenanigans.

Was he like that because of Dwalin’s accusations now? No, it didn’t matter. Nori was a thief and a liar and he had gotten in trouble before, so Dwalin was right in being suspicious. He assured himself of that.

Dwalin managed to push that out of his mind for long enough to go on about the rest of the day as planned. He was there to sell their fresh stock of lightning, only caught within the last few weeks, and he made sure to help Bombur with restocking any supplies the Wind Dancer needed. For the evening most of the crew gathered in a tavern, drinking and laughing, and Dwalin watched them leave for the ship or for further drinking.

He himself went with Glóin and Mirra, sharing wine and watching the river and the lanterns floating on the gentle current.

He managed to not think of Nori at all for the evening, but when Dwalin left his cousins to their drink and returned to the ship, he couldn’t help but be confronted by the very issue.

Nori had said that he would not leave the ship, and Dwalin hadn’t seen him on ground even once, despite everyone else showing up for at least a few minutes. Had he snuck away or had Dwalin’s words bothered him so much? 

Most likely Dwalin was worrying too much once again, but he could not leave it be. He was responsible for everyone on the ship, no matter how he felt about them.

Dwalin groaned softly, but he walked to the main sleeping hall anyway. Only few lamps burned, but it was bright enough anyway. Dwalin didn’t go there often, and he wasn’t sure where to look for Nori. He’d assigned him a space, the bunk at the far end of the hall, and the only place that’d been free at the time, but now it seemed like it was empty of everything but a few shirts in a corner.

“Where does Nori sleep?” Dwalin asked Bofur, who was the only crewmember in the cabin.

Bofur was hanging in his hammock, hands curled around a bottle of some booze. He lifted his hat so that he could actually look at Dwalin, and he shrugged with an apologetic smile.

“He’s been in that spot over there the first few days, but then he took his stuff and I’ve not seen him sleep anywhere since. Sorry Captn’.”

Dwalin stared at the empty bunk for a few seconds.

“Thank you,” he said slowly, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the spot.

If Nori wasn’t sleeping there, then where was he?

The Wind Dancer wasn’t very large as far as homes went, but to Dwalin she did feel like it. He could not find Nori anywhere above deck, and he wasn’t up on the ropes either. The kitchen was abandoned, and Dwalin’s office or quarters had not been entered as far as he could tell.

In the end it was on the lowest deck where Dwalin found his wayward first mate.

Barely anyone ever entered that part of the ship, and their least used reserves were gathered there: tools for repairs, barrels of wine or food too good or durable to break open for no good reason, some chests of materials and empty spare lightning capacitors.

One could hear the ship’s gently creaking there, and the wind at all sides, even so low above the ground.

Nori had made something of a nest between a cluster of barrels, a small hoard of blankets lying between the arrangement that looked too small for a grown man to stretch out between comfortably. Dwalin spotted Nori’s small travel bag of belongings on one of them, as well as a handkerchief with cheese and bread on it. The whole scene was illuminated by a single lit lamp.

As Dwalin approached, Nori stirred from where he had curled up on the blankets, sitting upright and squinting into the darkness.

He tensed as he recognized who it was, stumbling up to his feet on the unsteady surface of his bedding.

“I’m not doing anything you told me not to,” he snapped, before Dwalin could even open his mouth.

Dwalin stared at him for a few seconds, baffled for just a moment. He glanced at the bed Nori had made for himself.

“Why are you sleeping here?”

Nori squinted at him, jaw set defiantly.

“Is that bothering you in some way? Am I breaking a secret law of not sleeping beyond deck I’ve yet to hear of?”

“Stop that!” Dwalin growled, before catching himself. “No, I mean it, why are you here and not with the others?”

Nori ducked his head.

“I don’t... sleep well, and being in a room with a bunch of others makes it worse,” he said quietly. “I never liked that on ships before, made me essentially useless.”

Dwalin frowned.

“Why didn’t you say so? You could have gotten a proper bed somewhere.”

The look Nori gave him was bitter and annoyed, and nearly made Dwalin flinch back.

“Would you have given me one? If I’d asked you for a thing like that? A cabin of my own?”

“You could have one, you’re the first mate after all-“ Dwalin started, but stopped even before Nori snorted.

“You made very clear that I’m not really,” Nori shrugged. He didn’t even look hurt or anything, just reigned, and once again Dwalin felt a pang of guilt.

The first mate was entitled to certain rights, and the Wind Dancer was a ship large enough to have a cabin just for that. To truly do his job right, Nori would need a desk after all, and a place to retreat to. He should be near the captain to efficiently guide the ship through the sky, and in an ideal situation Dwalin should trust him.

And here he was, doing nothing but accuse Nori, and drive him to hiding on the lowest deck, possibly the coldest and most uncomfortable place to retreat and sleep.

Dwalin stared at the blankets, at the food, and at how tired and tense Nori looked, and for once he did not feel any resentment towards his first mate.

“Come,” he said, and pushed past Nori to gather up the mass of old blankets he’d used as a substitute for a proper mattress. “Take your things too.”

Nori was staring at Dwalin picking up everything with wide eyes, but he did as he was told despite his nervous expression. He followed Dwalin up through the decks soundlessly, barely more than a shadow in how much Dwalin noticed his quiet presence.

He led Nori past the storage rooms and towards the back of the ship, to where Dwalin’s own quarters were. The abandoned room reserved for the first mate was right across from Dwalin’s own nearly unused rooms, and he pushed open the door with his knee.

“There.”

Dwalin found the bed in the darkness and put down the blankets. The lamp on the desk did have some energy in it, so Dwalin could turn it on and illuminate the room with a small flickering blue light. It wasn’t much, and the room was empty, but Nori stared at it, still in the doorway and leaning away from Dwalin.

“This is the first mate’s place,” Dwalin explained, and put the lamp back. “It needs some work, but you can talk to Bombur about whatever you’ll need tomorrow.”

Nori was still hugging his pack close to his body quietly, and Dwalin felt like his patience and sudden goodwill were too thin to be dealing with Nori more than he had to right now. He already wasn’t sure what drove him to this. He pushed past Nori and back into the hallway, ready to just leave him like that.

“Thank you,” Nori whispered quietly, not meeting Dwalin’s eyes. “Wouldn’t have expected you to- well, thanks.”

Dwalin stopped and looked back at him. Nori shook his head slightly, in a way that let Dwalin wonder what he meant by that, if there was anything at all. He slipped into the room and pushed the door closed in a strangely gentle way. He did look up before he shut the door completely, eyes shining golden in the lamps’ lights.

“Good night Dwalin,” he said, just before disappearing out of view.

“Good night,” Dwalin replied automatically, even though he was speaking to a closed door by then.

He stared at it for a few minutes, frozen to the spot and questioning what he had done there. He had no idea what had made him give Nori a room, where what he really wanted was to see Nori off the ship. The first mate’s room at that, which was basically admitting that he was good at what he did.

Was it the cheerful night and Dwalin’s guilt combined with Nori being the only miserable one on board?

Was it one cup of ale too many?

Dwalin honestly couldn’t tell what had made him put down his suspicions for long enough to do this, but there was no use in overthinking it. His head was starting to hurt from the drinks either way, so Dwalin let it go and returned to his own room, grateful for his ability to push thoughts to the back of his mind, if only for long enough to fall asleep.


	8. The Problem of Pretty Things

How Balin always managed to get what he wanted was beyond Dwalin. He was usually a stubborn man and got what he wanted, and even against Balin he usually could hold his ground.

Perhaps it was just that he could not get his way without resorting to drastic measures, because while Nori was a nuisance Dwalin was loath to actually _harm_ the man. He could just tell Nori to leave, and that would solve the matter, but later on he’d have to face Balin, and Dori would use her polite scorn for who knew how long, while Ori would stare at Dwalin with a heartbreaking disappointment in her eyes.

Nori wasn’t actively bothering Dwalin, but his presence still… irked the captain. It was easier on the Wind Dancer without him around. She benefited from a first mate, of course, but he _was_ a thief, and he did not really _fit_ in the crew. Besides being a liability, Nori was also the only crewmember who Dwalin hadn’t chosen himself; if not for his relation to Dori and Ori, the man would be a complete stranger.

The ‘little trip until things calm down’ stretched through excuses and promises and Balin having to mind or time to discuss it with Dwalin, and somehow Nori had spent five months on the Wind Dancer without any end in sight.

Balin more or less refused to hear Dwalin out anymore, believing that ignoring his little brother would either help until matters resolved on their own, or until Dwalin grew bored of complaining and used to Nori.

Dwalin also suspected that Dori was convincing (which coming from Dori meant _threatening_ Nori to stay on the ship to keep his decent position. Nori quietly obeyed his sister in that point, but even without Dori’s prompting, Ori’s excitement at his frequent visits home were enough encouragement.

Dwalin would rather sit out a hail storm on the crow’s nest of the Wind Dancer than to admit that he was growing used to Nori.

Because he certainly _wasn’t_.  
Nori still was secretive, and though he talked and joked with the crew, he’d never actually give anything away about himself. More than once Dwalin walked into the galley or on deck where the crew was gathered for stories, to hear Nori’s voice accompanied by the wild cheers of his audience. Upon noticing Dwalin, Nori’s mouth would snap shut, and he’d watch Dwalin with a tense expression, while everyone else ducked their head sheepishly, avoiding their captain’s eyes.

Sometimes Nori would climb up to the side sails, or retreat down to the lower decks, and Dwalin would wonder why he was hiding away, or why he was being so stupid as to climb such risky areas unnecessarily. Dwalin sometimes did like to admire the view, but there was no need to go as high as Nori did, and more than once Nori was there when the night was too dark to see much of the ground.

Dwalin tried to snap at him for such behaviour more than once, but each time Nori would tense up and glare while listing excuses for why Dwalin couldn’t forbid the first mate to _make sure that the dear ship is running as she should_. Somehow Nori even started picking up when Dwalin was about to start his lecture, and Dwalin discovered that even an air vessel was a good place to aggressively avoid someone.

Dwalin wouldn’t call what he thought about Nori ‘acceptance’ but sometimes he had to admit that there was at least a _truce_ there. Which then led to Dwalin slowly forgetting about the _known_ flaws in Nori’s character, and spot new ways in which Nori was odd or just a disturbance for the ship.

There were days when Dwalin nearly forgot about his hang-ups. Most of the time it was in the early morning, when Dwalin just left his quarters. The first mate’s room was more or less part of the captain’s quarters, though they were separated by a narrow corridor so that the first mate would have to cross a small distance to the other rooms. Dwalin would have expected to see Nori more often, but it felt as if Nori was actively avoiding having to face Dwalin anywhere near that place.

Once or twice Dwalin ran into him there, either of them on their way to the decks, or off to fetch some water in the morning, and each time Nori would freeze and push past Dwalin to slip into his room or get away. Perhaps he just didn’t want to deal with Dwalin so close to the one spot on the ship where he truly could be all by himself, undisturbed.

Dwalin did wonder whether it was because it was him, or whether Nori would act like that with the entire crew. He did notice that Nori was quieter, and even a little cold to him. Of course, his behaviour would get such a response, but Dwalin still felt annoyed at that. Yes, he was a gruff person to begin with, and he treated Nori less than kindly, which was justified, somehow. It still grated at him, and Dwalin didn’t know how to make himself shake off that behaviour.

They were “civil”, as Balin would call it maybe, and under other circumstances Dwalin might have described his relation to Nori as… neutral. Perhaps even amicable, if this were court. In Erebor Dwalin might have laughed with Nori and be annoyed in turns, and then think of him as decent company when Nori wasn’t there.

Living in close quarters though, and on Dwalin’s own ship… He could not get distance from Nori, and he could not shake the picture that had formed in his mind and had barely shifted since the day he’d met Nori. Nori was part of his crew, but he was also as close to an equal on the ship as was possible. And Dwalin just didn’t know how to deal with the roles they were supposed to play together, and how he’d treat Nori otherwise.

He was the first mate, he had to be someone Dwalin could work with, which he didn’t know how to. He had to be someone Dwalin could trust and communicate with well, but Dwalin was too stubborn to change his behaviour to make Nori think he could do what he wanted, and neither could he get over how terse Nori was in turn.

At least Nori _was_ good enough to have the Wind Dancer fly and the crew operate smoothly, even if he and Dwalin were awkward around each other. They could put their differences and problems in communication aside to manage that.

And Nori was good with the crew. He might not be as open as them, but Dwalin saw how he was friends with every single one. He’d not tease Glóin for waxing on about the loveliest wife to ever walk Arda (who happened to be his). He could chat with both Bombur and Mirra, who were as different as a pair could get. And Nori could both be quiet and help Bifur pick up gears for his puppets, and be loud and joke with Óin to completely switch to a serious tone or listen attentively to what the ship’s doctor would teach him.

And Bofur… Dwalin really did not know what to think of that.

Bofur was the sort of person who’d make friends with _anyone_. And even if he didn’t, he still was so damn cheerful and friendly that there were bets on whether he’d end up drinking with an Orc and live to tell the tale one day.

For some reason Dwalin had assumed that Bofur and Nori would end up getting along just enough to function, as much as was the least one should expect from a good crew. Bofur was loud and had been born with no way to filter the thoughts that crossed his mind before he spoke them, while Nori had a generally quiet nature, and spoke softly, even when he was joking. Bofur’s presence was always obvious, while Nori somehow managed to be inconspicuous easily, and could sneak around better than Dwalin was comfortable with.

Yet somehow those two grew closer than Dwalin had expected. They’d whisper, and sit close, and sometimes they’d share a pipe or their booze. More than once, Dwalin had seen them practically lying on top of each other during a nice evening off duty. He’d spot Bofur pulling Nori close to lean against barrels with him, arm slung around the thief’s narrow shoulders, and he’d see how Nori would grin and allow Bofur to bring his cup or flask to Nori’s lips to take a sip of whatever he’d brewed up.

Dwalin had no doubts about what was… going on there, and truly, it was _none_ of his business who his crew shared a bed with. Minding such things was the last thing Dwalin wanted to do, and really, the whole notion didn’t phase him; he knew that Mirra and Bombur had been together since before she’d joined the crew.

But there was just something about the thought of Nori and Bofur together that didn’t sit right with Dwalin. It was their personalities, perhaps.

Mirra and Bombur where sweet and steady and private. And Nori and Bofur were the furthest from _that_. Nori could not be trusted. Neither with one’s riches, nor with anything else. What he did was his business, but unstable affairs within the crew were _bad_. Bofur was too good to afford to lose due to unnecessary drama (not to mention that his brother and cousin likely would follow if he chose to leave). 

Most of the time Dwalin could ignore that, but sometimes he spotted Bofur’s hand on Nori’s back, or Nori teasing Bofur from one deck above him as Bofur worked on the lightning nets. Sometimes Dwalin would wonder whether Bofur was ever invited to Nori’s cabin. Nori didn’t _seem_ to let anyone in there, but at times Dwalin was tired and lying in his bed, and he’d wonder what was going on just a few feet away from him.

It was _none_ of Dwalin’s business how many lovers one took, or who tumbled who. To be honest, it made Dwalin uncomfortable to think too much about what anyone did usually, it just wasn’t right to pry. As far as he was concerned, paying for it wasn’t a detail he cared about.

But with Nori…

Dwalin spied him when the ship was docking in a town over night, and the crew scattered to enjoy a shore leave. Nori was sitting with a group of women, whores, based on their attire, laughing, buying them drinks and joking, sitting among them as if he liked nothing more in the world.

If he’d only walk somewhere else, if he’d only do it away from the nearest docks, where the crew usually drank, and without wearing the coat that determined he was an air sailor. 

Nori didn’t seem to care for Dwalin’s reputation at all. The crew’s actions reflected on the Wind Dancer, and on Dwalin. With that, it might even reflect on Dwalin’s family, and Erebor’s crown. And he _couldn’t_ tolerate that.

Still, Nori always ended up in the worst taverns, laughing and joking with obvious criminals, or surrounded by a flock of beautifully dressed women, whores, of the sort who were more likely to slit your throat to take your purse than walk further than the nearest river or dark alley.

Nori would act so familiar around those women, and they’d treat him as if he was family, or even one of them. Which Nori wasn’t, _couldn’t_ be. He was a first mate of a fine air vessel, not a whore, not a cutpurse and backstabbing traitor.

When spotting Nori in such company, Dwalin’s grip on his cup would always tighten so much that his knuckles turned white. ‘ _Just go away_ ’ he’d think, gritting his teeth and refusing to rise from his seat to go anywhere near that bunch to snap at Nori. ‘ _Talk to who you want, fuck who you want, just do it where people won’t guess who you are._ ’

Dwalin never stayed for long enough to see Nori return after he did leave with a bunch of the women, and he always avoided him the next morning on the ship. Sometimes he wondered whether Bofur knew, and whether he’d care. He wouldn’t be the one to tell either way. As a captain he had to make sure his crew was well, but even if it might be better to make sure Bofur knew what was up, Dwalin didn’t have the heart to speak up about it.

He endured the silent rage without speaking up at all. What did it matter that Nori was a potential disgrace to the ship, to the crown. What did it matter that his sisters might not know, and find out if this went on too much? Dwalin would not be the one to say anything.

A part of Dwalin wanted to use any potential trouble Nori would inevitable get in with that crowd to talk to Balin. Nori had ended up on the Wind Dancer to avoid this sort of things, and here he was…

Another part of Dwalin just… refused. There was a knot in Dwalin’s stomach when he saw Nori do what he did. And Dwalin was too stubborn to try and figure it out. Though sometimes he thought that it was something like disappointment. As if he’d expected better of Nori, or as if part of him wanted to give Nori a chance, despite knowing better.

So Dwalin did his best to not think of any of it at all.

The last straw was reached very soon. however.

The autumn harvest celebrations were going on nearly everywhere the Wind Dancer travelled, and tubes of pretty but weak bottles of lightning were both easy to catch and to sell.

Dwalin liked that time of year, it was the time the crew had the most time and opportunity to join in actual celebrations, and do whatever they wished to. He would tolerate the most unprofessional behaviour at the time, and if the crew chose to spend their mornings hung-over, and the nights going wild once more, then so be it. Dwalin would even join in, occasionally. The captain did have to be conscious for his ship at least for a little part of the day.

Dwalin hadn’t paid much thought to what Nori was up to in particular, apart from the night Bofur hand clung to him and tiredly sung some affectionate songs while Nori tried to escape his too tight grip. That had caused the entire crew to tease Nori and sing at him until he’d threatened to make them do awful chores for every single verse sometime in the future. That had shut them right up, and Dwalin had nearly complimented Nori on his wonderful handling of the crew’s shenanigans.

He should have known that Nori would fall back to his usual behaviour. 

The ship was as quiet as she could get, with her sails rolled up and the wood creaking slightly. The sounds of the town below waking up and single instruments and melodies popping up here and there carried up to the Wind Dancer.

To Dwalin’s amusement, the few crew members who’d made it aboard to sleep were already getting up for a quick breakfast and climbing down to re-join the parties. He watched them, from behind the helm, smiling fondly at his family of choice.

It was more by chance that his eyes fell on Nori. He wasn’t even going towards the jetty to climb down, and none of the crew paid attention to him. Dwalin noticed how he walked slowly and not quite as steadily as usual, apparently tired, his hands curled around a ball of clothes. He was planning on doing laundry, then rather than joining the others.

Made sense, since Dwalin could spot the clothes Nori had worn the other day in the small bundle, and Nori didn’t have many to spare. Wouldn’t do to have all his clothes dirty after all.

Dwalin kept watching idly, and he wasn’t sure why his eyes lingered on Nori’s moving hands. All he did was briefly soak what he had in the barrel, brushing at it and wringing it out. Dwalin was paying enough attention, that he was able to spot the dress.

It was a quite simple one, from the looks of it, pale grey with embroidery and short puffy sleeves, pretty but out of cheap materials, or something Nori didn’t mind stuffing into the soap with his shirt and pants either way.

For a few seconds Dwalin just watched, and then he realized where he’d seen that kind of dress before.

They could be seen on the sort of whores Dwalin always felt uncomfortable around, the sort Nori always seemed to seek out. _They_ had such dresses, with just the same patterns, only they also wore coats and shawls and sometimes several dresses in layers, with varying slits and colours.

And Nori had such a dress on board…

The sudden anger that realization triggered in Dwalin nearly had him run down to shout at Nori right away. His fingers tightened around the rail and he gritted his teeth, pushing the urge back. They weren’t alone, and his voice carried too much. No need to have the entire crew know.

Dwalin watched as Nori started to put his still damp things back into his little shoulder bag. He counted his breaths, keeping them calm and not letting his anger take hold of him as the crew slowly and one by one left the ship. He waited until the last of them was out of sight and on the way down to the ground before he rounded on Nori.

No need to have anyone else know.

“Nori! The helms. Now!” he snapped, making one sharp motion to point behind him when Nori startled and glanced up.

Dwalin didn’t turn around at Nori’s approach, just stood and stared straight ahead, arms crossed.

He’d had enough of his first mate’s behaviour. As much as Dwalin didn’t like getting involved in his crew’s private matters, it became necessary when the crewmembers started behaving like Nori had. 

“I kept my silence about your behaviour,” Dwalin started, carefully keeping his anger in check, “even when I felt like it had consequences for the ship or our reputation. But I’ve had enough.”

“What is it this time?” Nori asked raised his eyebrows, and Dwalin could see the hint of a smirk on his lips. It only made it that much harder to not just grab the man and shake him.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! I have watched you, and while I can’t prove that any of the things you did on my ship are directly harming us, you also weren’t exactly free from suspicion. That thing with Bofur was already a mistake, and I didn’t say anything about it, since I do value my crew’s privacy. I didn’t say anything about the whores either. But _this_ is where I draw the line.”

Dwalin gave Nori a few moments to reply, but Nori was still watching him, his smile still in place, though wavering slightly in confusion.

“I thought that I could ignore what you did to be civil, but I’ve had it with this. I won’t tolerate you sullying the Wind Dancer’s reputation, and I _won’t_ have you take whores on board,” Dwalin growled at Nori, “What if anyone else had seen? Any of the town’s people, or the crew? Is that what you wanted? To have Bofur walk in on you to see?”

Nori’s smile slowly started dropping, but he looked more puzzled than defensive.

“When did I ever take any of my friends on board-“

“Do not pretend you’re innocent!” Dwalin bellowed, taking half a step towards Nori. “She’s even left her clothes here!”

For a few moments Nori looked as if he was about to retort and insult Dwalin back, then he froze, eyes going wide.

“Don’t deny it, I’ve seen you with a dress of the kind most of these whores have!” Dwalin told him.

He didn’t quite expect Nori to react the way he did. He thought Nori would be angry, or laugh at him and be all cocky and stubborn about whatever he did. Dwalin didn’t expect the way Nori’s face twisted as if in pain, and the way he sneered and shifted defensively.

“Are you spying on me?” he hissed, voice quiet and soft and nearly too calm to match the way he was staring at Dwalin.

His hands twisted around the strap of his belt.

“One doesn’t have to _spy_ on you to notice such things!”

Dwalin took another step closer, using his usual tactic of looming over someone to intimidate them without doing any real threatening gesture. Nori shirked away, his back hitting against the altitude steering wheel.

“Now I _am_ willing to turn a blind eye on anything I might disapprove of, even if I feel it harms the ship’s reputation. Any illegal or immoral activities my crew feels like pursuing,” Dwalin continued, “but I draw the line at _anyone_ bringing that on board, and whores at that. I knew it was a mistake to permit you on my ship. It’s not only that you lead one back on _my_ ship, no, you’re also picking the lowest of the criminal pack! If anything on my ship is damaged or stolen-“

“I didn’t lead any of them here,” Nori snapped, his knuckles white where he was still clutching his bag.

“Then whose dress is it?” Dwalin scoffed.

“It’s _mine_ , all right?!” Nori nearly shouted at Dwalin, for one moment flaring up so much that Dwalin nearly took an instinctive step back.

“This bloody thing-“ Nori’s fingers fumbled with the clasp of his bag, clumsy with his anger “-is mine and mine alone. Those _whores_ -“ he dug in the bag, past the shirts and a pair of socks “-are possibly the only ones who’ll just give me one of these.”

Nori pulled and tore at the damp clothes, getting out the dress for Dwalin to see. It caught on the clasp for a moment, and Nori pulled and let out an enraged sound as the material tore apart, which didn’t stop him in producing it Dwalin for Dwalin to see.

“That’s all there is to this oh _captain_. I wanted a dress, just _one_ for myself, and those women down there, yes, they’re whores, yes they’re also the most vicious thieves I know, but they’re loyal and they’re good. You treat them kind and help them out and they will remember and even do you favours. Tiny insignificant favours like giving you wine and letting you stay in their homes even though you’re neither one of them nor a client, just because you need a place. Favours like giving information, or even just-“

Nori had near screamed all of that in Dwalin’s face, leaving the captain frozen in shock. But his voice broke and he stared down at the ruined garment in his hand. His shoulders slumped and he turned away from Dwalin.

“I just wanted a dress,” he muttered. He let out a shuddering sigh, and pulled a face, before groaning in frustration and tossing the dress away, forceful enough that he might have broken something if it were a solid object rather than a piece of clothing.

Dwalin wasn’t sure how to respond. Nori didn’t speak any more, just stared at his hands, and Dwalin tried to decide what to think.

“You like dresses?” he asked, slowly. “You never wore anything of the kind.”

On a ship like the Wind Dancer long dresses were out of place, as they would be in any environment where one needed to move a lot and couldn’t afford catching on something. But even so, Dwalin’s crew, a mix of both men and women, did wear skirts and sometimes tunics that reached past the knees. Mirra had a few pretty skirts that didn’t hinder her movements on the ship and with the mechanics, and some in the crew wore longer and looser things when they didn’t need to work.

Still, Nori had never worn anything even close to these things. Why would he react like this now?

Nori turned his face further down, avoiding Dwalin’s eyes completely.

“It’s not just dresses. I like the feeling of nice materials. Silks and lace, and wide soft skirts that swish against my legs. I just like _nice_ things,” Nori confessed. His voice sounded pained and hoarse. “A gown of my own maybe. I don’t really care for dresses as such, they’re inconvenient when you move around a lot.”

Dwalin opened his mouth but no reply came to mind. He remembered Dís having the prettiest gowns, of a kind that looked both gorgeous and comfortable to wear. It wasn’t too hard to imagine wanting that, even if Dwalin himself couldn’t see an appeal for himself. But Nori had an eye for pretty things, so it wasn’t far fetched either. He looked too sincere and hurt for this to just be an excuse.

“Why do you keep it so secret then?” Dwalin asked, the first thing that came to mind. It sounded wrong even as he said it, but what did that even matter. “Why ask the… your friends and hide it away like this?”

Nori finally looked up, a bitter smile on his lips, and the familiar mocking raise of his eyebrows back.

“Really? Think of what you think me to be like, and then imagine one like that in a lacy court dress.”

Dwalin wanted to snap at Nori for his tone, but that wasn’t right. He thought about it instead.

Nori, the immoral thief who did as he pleased, who had no respect for anyone, not common decency, not the crown. Nori, who Dwalin had been so suspicious of for a reason. Someone dangerous and aloof and part of the worst any city had to offer.

Someone like that wearing a pretty delicate gown… the two images didn’t fit. Nobody would believe that Nori was the way he seemed, if he appeared in a long silk dress.

One had little to do with the other, but even Dwalin was struggling to have his image of Nori match with someone who liked nice and delicate things. He didn’t know what to say.

“So you… collect dresses?”

“No. No that was the first real dress I had in a while. It’s barely better than a rag, but I liked it.”

“Who… knows?” the fact that Nori had confessed this suddenly made Dwalin feel uncomfortable. “Dori?”

Nori screwed his nose up.

“I’d not give _her_ the satisfaction of knowing that I like the things she does, no. Only… my friends who borrow me some in the first place know… knew.”

The fearful flicker of Nori’s eyes up to Dwalin’s left a pang of guilt in him. He had not meant to force Nori into admitting something that he guarded so much, something that he obviously didn’t want anyone to know. It wasn’t even a matter that had an impact on the crew, so Dwalin had no way to justify prying into Nori’s affairs.

“I… I am sorry for the dress,” he said, making an effort to sound as sincere as he felt.

Something about how meek he spoke made Nori’s relax his stance a little.

“It’s just a cheap thin dress, barely worth the amount of time I spent sweet talking its previous owner.”

“Then why did you get it? You… It’s nice things you like?”

Dwalin leaned his head to the side, interested, despite knowing that he should apologize over and over and leave Nori be.

“Well, it fits in my bag doesn’t it?”

Dwalin raised his eyebrow, and Nori shrugged with one shoulder.

“I could never carry much around with me, and when it comes down to it, a warm coat for winter nights is worth more than a beautiful dress for the warm ones. And do you know how expensive good dresses are?”

“Is that an issue?”

For a thief things like that shouldn’t matter, but Nori looked puzzled at the question.

“Of course. The coins I made with- well, I needed to bring them back and buy food or clothes or give Dori some to buy a new bed for Ori when she grew too much to share Dori’s old one. And I couldn’t steal a pretty dress, they have to be tailored, and as I said, no space. The petticoats alone… and it would crinkle and get damaged the next time I’d have to jump into a river to escape someone. Really, all I ever stole for the sake of it was stuff I could carry easily.”

Nori wriggled his fingers, the morning sunlight catching on a slim ring he was wearing. He dropped his hand near immediately, looking sheepish, but for once Dwalin didn’t care.

Dori _had_ struggled to make ends meet before Balin offered her a place among their family. She had counted every coin twice for a long time after she didn’t have to anymore.

Dwalin had just assumed that Nori was the good for nothing middle child. Never there to help or support his sisters, only good to have Ori gush over his adventure tales. But he _had_ supported them. Why did Dwalin ever think that he was a thief just for the sake of it? True, Dori never said that he had brought home money, but Dwalin didn’t know her well enough to be told such things, and it also wasn’t something proud Dori would want to speak of either way.

The realization just made him feel worse to what he’d done to such a good first mate and a man whose only offence towards him was being... annoying.

They didn’t speak for a while, only listening to the creak of the ship and the rigging around them. It wasn’t awkward at least, just strange and Dwalin felt like he had to do something.

“Does Bofur know about the dresses?” he asked gently, hoping to apologize in that aspect as well.

“Why would he?” Nori’s expression didn’t change, and Dwalin huffed, wondering whether he should even ask.

“Since you two are… you know… together, or whatever you are, I don’t know.”

Nori’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“We’re not, why would you think that?”

“You two are always so close and I thought… So you aren’t flirting with Bofur?”

Nori gave Dwalin a tired smile.

“I’m not after your crew. At all, don’t worry for them.”

“That’s not-“ Dwalin started, then swallowed. He never gave Nori cause to think that he would assume the worst of him. “You seem to like him. And Bofur likes you a lot. I was sure he fancied you.”

“He’s not fancying anyone, and I don’t really go for that.”

At Dwalin’s blank expression Nori ducked his face, but not quick enough for Dwalin to miss him blush. Nori _never_ blushed like that.

“Bofur’s never been in love…” Nori paused, considering. “Bofur says he doesn’t feel like he’d want to, he loves people, but he’s never _in_ love. He’s happy as he is without romance.”

He glanced up at Dwalin.

“Didn’t you know?”

Dwalin shook his head. He only knew of his friend’s or crewmember’s preferences based on what he saw, but he had never asked, since it was never a concern of his. He knew that Bofur did take lovers, and he knew that Bofur loved near anyone.

“At least now I know that nobody would break Bofur’s heart in love,” Dwalin tried to joke. “Do you feel like that too? I would have thought you’d be interested in something casual with him.”

And at that Nori truly blushed. He looked nearly shy and self-conscious as he spoke again, and Dwalin had no idea why he even trusted him with any more information.

“I don’t like flings…” he said quietly, shrinking a little. “Never felt good anyway.Bofur… well, even if he likes me, he doesn’t care for me _that_ much, not even as a friend. He’s fun and good, but he’s not someone I’d trust with my life if I didn’t have to, or someone I’d want to stay up with to just _touch_ and know. I want that for myself. I want… I want to love be loved back. ”

Nori’s words came out in a rush, and he was nearly squirming where he stood, looking extremely uncomfortable at admitting such a secret. 

Dwalin had to concentrate on keeping his mouth from hanging open. He looked like a damn fool, he was sure of it.

_Everything_ he had assumed of Nori was wrong, and everything he knew directly contradicted it too.

The rude rogue thief with no care in the world was a good brother who loved delicate dresses and dreamed of romance, and looked as if he wanted to run when forced to speak of it.

Nori glanced up at Dwalin, face shifting to a careful mask of calm.

“Should I pack my things, captain? Or would you agree to let me stay until we reach my sisters?”

“Stay…?” for a moment Dwalin wasn’t sure what Nori meant. “You think I’d make you leave the ship? No. No, Balin has refused to listen to any of my pleas, so you are stuck on the Wind Dancer. The first mate can’t leave just because of a disagreement with the captain, after all.”

He tried mocking Balin’s tone, but Nori’s lips twitched into the grimace of a forced smile. He looked too tense to care for attempted humor, so Dwalin dropped it.

“Just go and put your clothes way,” he said quietly. “And sleep or go down to celebrate, whatever you wish to do.”

Nori nodded stiffly and pushed past Dwalin, leaving the helm as quick as he could. Dwalin didn’t turn to watch him. Instead he stared up into the sky above, thinking about the extent of his mistake.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, or why he didn’t just go to work on something useful, but after a while something grey caught his eye.

As he stepped closer he saw that it was the dress Nori had thrown earlier. It had caught on some ropes, and it even still was within easy reach, so Dwalin pulled it up. He wasn’t sure what to do with it. It was torn, and Dwalin was sure that Nori wouldn’t want it back.

Standing alone on the deck, cradling the dress in his hands, Dwalin was at a loss for what to do.

 

*

Dwalin had the right to enter any place on his own ship, but he still tried to avoid corners any of the crew claimed for privacy. The first mate’s room was probably the most obvious private space he could think of, and yet he was there, hesitating in the doorway.

Nori was off helping Bifur to check over the ship’s cargo, so he would not catch Dwalin entering his room. Still, it felt strange.

It was cleaner than last time Dwalin had been there. Nori had tidied it well, and there was no more dust anywhere. The bed was made neatly, with three blankets folded without being in a mess. It didn’t look very lived in, though; Nori’s things were all in his travel bag, or folded on the chair, and only a razor blade and a towel on the desk indicated that anyone had been there that morning.

Dwalin stood in front of the bed, pursing his lips and frowning. To anyone watching he’d look absolutely murderous, but really, he was wondering whether his plan would only make things worse.

It was an apology, though Dwalin was sure that it was not nearly enough, even if Nori saw it as such.

He gently unwrapped the parcel he’s brought to reveal the garment inside. Even for someone who didn’t have an eye for such things, Dwalin could recognize that the dress was beautiful.

It was of a dove grey silk, very soft to the touch and with pretty skirts and lace on the borders. He had been at a loss for what to commission, so he had asked the seamstress to recreated the ripped dress he brought her, only in as beautiful as she could make it in such a short time.

The seamstress had been frustrated with Dwalin, for his lack of specific information and secrecy over who the dress was for, but she recreated the style of Nori’s old dress, and Dwalin hoped that Nori would appreaciate the thought. 

He carefully laid out the dress on the bed, and then placed a small note on it. He still avoided writing as much as he could, with his hands struggling with delicate quills. Still, Dwalin had written a small card, and he placed it on top of the dress.

" _Sorry for the dress, I hope this will suffice as replacement_ " was all it said, and Dwalin wasn’t sure what else he could say about that.

Dwalin stared at it for a few moments, then turned and pulled the door closed behind him.

*

The Wind Dancer was already in the air and gaining altitude, leaving the crew to slowly move away from their work and let the wind carry the ship onwards. Dwalin stood at a high point on deck, watching everything and everyone and checking whether all looked in order.

He hadn’t thought much of the matter, but as he saw Nori approach him from the corner of his eye he knew that Nori had been to his room.

Nori moved quickly and with his head ducked. He didn’t look that strange doing that, but maybe Dwalin was just watching especially carefully.

“Why,” Nori whispered quietly, eyes wide and shocked as he stared at Dwalin. “Why is there a dress in my room?”

Dwalin kept his eyes on the side sails as he answered, still watching his ship.

“The previous one ripped, so this is my apology.”

“But _why_ , that dress looks damn expensive,” Nori insisted again. “That’s not a replacement, that’s… The previous one wasn’t even worth one half of the lace alone!”

Dwalin turned his head to look at Nori, frowning a little.

“I do feel like I need to apologize,” he said in a serious tone, and Nori’s eyes widened even more.

“The dress is damn precious,” he muttered, “I’d never have taken it, it wouldn’t even _fit_ in my bag if I’d empty it out completely.”

“Well, I can take it back if it makes you uncomfortable-“

“No!” Nori snapped right away, cutting Dwalin off.

His lips quirked in a real smile, shy and strange as it was for him, and he looked down, averting his gaze.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I- Thank you.”

Dwalin watched the way Nori’s ears turned red, and he had to bite back a smile himself.

“Don’t daydream,” he told Nori instead, trying to keep his tone authoritative. “You can look at it all night for all I care, but now there is a ship to handle.”

Nori grinned, eyebrows rising and he laughed in that mocking way of his.

“Oh, right, sure Captn’, whatever you want Captn’. Lets make sure your precious Dancer doesn’t fall out of the sky, shall we now?”

He turned and re-joined the crew’s shuffle with a dismissive wave of his hand, and for the first time the attitude made Dwalin feel genuinely fond of the man, with no trace of annoyance. He turned away, and none of the crew saw their captain smile at nothing.


	9. (Mostly) Ordinary Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli is growing up in England

The life of Kíli Sterling was as uneventful and normal as a young child could wish for. Or rather not, in the case of an adventurous young boy with a fair share of curiosity and a constant need to explore whatever there was to see in his small hometown.

There were perhaps _some_ things that set him apart from most of his friends at first glance, things that Kíli himself never thought about since they were always a part of him. For one thing, he only had a father, and unlike anyone else who was also missing a parent, there was nobody who’d known his mother. There was Aunty Ruth, when he was little, who was _nearly_ like a grandma, but not quite. But other than that it had always been only Kíli and his father, and no extended family in the little town.

In his class Kíli was the only one without siblings, and sometimes it bothered him, but sometimes he was just fine without. A big brother who could build you a toy sword or gave away his old glass marbles was a fine thing, but looking after a little toddler was the opposite of what Kíli considered a good time.

But all those things were purely circumstantial. Other things about Kíli did seem to be rather peculiar, at least to others.

His eyes were brown, just like his father’s, but in the right light they were said to shine bright gold. People had told him that before, noticing the trait with awe and comments of how handsome a child he was. Kíli could never quite spot it; each time he sat in front of a mirror he would frown at his own face with great focus, before he grew bored and pulled faces until Aunty Ruth told him to stop that.

Once he’d scraped his knee very badly at school, where his father wasn’t there to pet his head and tell him it was nothing a little care couldn’t fix. It didn’t hurt much, but Kíli had still been very upset. He’d barely cried, of course, but he had to sit in a corner during playtime because it did hurt too much to run around.

One of the girls approached him as he sat there, pouting and miserable, and had peered into his eyes with a frown.

“You do have brown eyes,” she said, as if that was a strange thing. “When you fell I was sure they were _blue_.”

Kíli was so confused by her mistake that he nearly forgot the cause of his misery. When he tried to check in the mirror to see if he could make his eyes turn a different colour, he failed, and only managed to make his ears and cheeks red with the effort. He decided that she’d either played a prank or was seeing things.

Kíli’s sense of self-preservation, or lack thereof, often led him to forget his surroundings. His determination and recklessness was cause of much worry from his peers and minders.

Once he climbed up into one of the oldest trees in town, happy on the broad branches. The boys wanted to reach the heights where some crows sat, to see whether they could catch them. He’d stayed for longer than most others, and climbed up higher than the other boys his age. The branches still barely creaked under his weight after all, and he was not worried of falling. 

He’d climbed around, barely holding on for support. It felt right to be that high, nearly as far up as the birds. The crows watched Kíli with unimpressed little eyes, but he liked trying to find a path up anyway. If crow catching were a real job, Kíli was sure he’d be the best at it.

He didn’t even realize that he was doing it, until a panicked scream of _KÍLI_ made him notice just how high he was.

No adults were around then, so Kíli didn’t get into any trouble, but some of the girls were angry with him for deliberately frightening them so. He promised that he hadn’t meant to, but nobody believed him for the longest time.

He _did_ get in trouble when his class made a little trip outside of town, in the fields around it, and the children decided to play hide and seek.

Kíli chose a crevice in one of the rocks around the area, and he climbed into it as far as he could, until he was completely surrounded by stone. He was very pleased by the spot he found, and he felt weirdly calm with the stone pressing against him everywhere.

This ended when the other children were too afraid to climb as far as he did, and the teacher came running, screaming at each other and staring into Kíli’s little cave with wide eyes. They couldn’t reach him from outside, and from what Kíli could hear they all were too afraid to follow in and get stuck. Some called for one of the classmates to run back into town to fetch a pickaxe, or _something_.

While this was going on, Kíli calmly wiggled back out, leaving everyone gaping with baffled expressions. They had been so sure that a child this far back in that tiny crack must be stuck. Kíli hadn’t felt stuck though; he had barely even dirtied his clothes. There was no happiness at his safety, though, only trouble and his ear being pulled for pulling such a prank. 

He’d been very nervous indeed, when they dragged him back home to his father and have _him_ decide on a punishment for such reckless behaviour. Kíli had been sure that hiding had been harmless, and he certainly wouldn’t have gotten stuck, but he knew that he might still get in trouble.

Philip had smiled politely as the teacher told Kíli off, before taking his son by the hand and leading him into the kitchen.

He wasn’t… mad. But Kíli could see that his father was very upset. He felt more guilty for that than for whatever the teacher had told him off about.

But Philip didn’t tell Kíli off at all after he listened to what had happened. He simply explained that a lot of things might seem just fine to Kíli, but were dangerous nevertheless. He emphasised that he’d be devastated if something were to happen to his son, and that there might be a time when Kíli went too far and could hurt himself. He made Kíli promise that he would think about what he was doing, and that he’d not act recklessly, to which Kíli immediately agreed.

His father was the best, Kíli was sure of it. Sometimes he behaved a little strangely, but he told the best stories that no other kid ever got to hear. Kíli didn’t share them because of that; they were special and only for him.

The other adults in the town always treated Philip with respect, as far back as Kíli could remember. He had work and was always kind and helpful. Some did talk about him though, especially the older ladies who, in Kíli’s eyes, seemed to do nothing other than scold children who were too loud and wild too close to them.

They were nice to Kíli though, the few times they talked to him.

They’d give him apples and tell him what a handsome boy he was, and how he’d grown so much since they’d last seen him. Kíli loved that attention, but when he was very little they also tried to ask him about his father. Whether Philip ever told Kíli of all the traveling he did, or whether he ever mentioned Kíli’s mummy.

Kíli would always just eat his apple and tell him that he had no idea and that they could ask his father themselves, if they were so curious. That left them all displeased, but they let him be.

As Kíli grew older people stopped trying to ask him about such things. He was a little rough troublemaker, but not of the worst kind. He would still be gently scolded by half the town when things went wrong, but really Kíli was more clumsy than causing problems on purpose.

He took up archery when he was old enough to join in the competitions and games held in the town during summer, and he wasn’t clumsy at that at least. It was hard to see too far ahead and hit a target, but Kíli picked a bow that had a good range and ended up being quite good at it too.

In his own time as well, when he had the time, taking apples or pine cones and setting them in the woods behind the town. There was a wall there, which nobody ever crossed, and he put his things on top of it to practice his target in peace.

There was a hole in the wall, further north from where Kíli usually went, but nobody ever went through it. People in his town barely ever talked about the wall, really, as if it wasn’t there. But there seemed to be an unspoken rule to never cross over to the other side. Nothing good was there after all. Just forests. Which made Kíli wonder why any child asking about it would be told to drop the subject, and that it “just wasn’t done”.

Sometimes Kíli would get the urge to climb over the wall, or walk the distance to find the hole. Even if it was just a forest behind the wall, it might still be worth exploring.

Doing so would be extremely reckless, though, and Kíli had promised not to do such things. He’d promised to think before he acted. And Philip had requested that Kíli not leave the town without telling first. What was beyond the wall wasn’t part of the town anymore. 

There were things about Kíli that made the other children think he was being weird or was making fun of them. He was friendly, but had an imagination the others couldn’t quite grasp.

When he was very young he had been comfortable enough asking the first adult he saw about things that were new to him, or when he wasn’t sure whether he was acting normally. Early on they would laugh fondly, and pet his hair. As he grew older, adults would frown a little as they answered him or waved him off.

Kíli grew used to only asking his father, when he wasn’t sure of something. Philip never laughed or waved him off at least, and explained better than most. Even if he sometimes asked Kíli to never tell anyone else about whatever they discussed.

When Kíli was thirteen years old, some of his friends started to act strangely around some of the girls. In turn, the girls began acting around the boys. It took him a while to realize what was going on.

The day Kíli first heard talk about ‘courting’, accompanied by lots of giggles, he went home lost in thought. Even his father, who was often absent minded as they ate their lunch, noticed his mood.

“Is there something on your mind, Kee?” he asked after he watched Kíli poke at his sausages while failing to spear them on his fork for a minute.

“Everyone was talking and joking about courting,” Kíli told him. “Some of the others were teasing Chester because he wanted to give Rosie flowers. And they gave lots of advice, and later I heard the girls giggle about the same thing as well.”

Philip laughed.

“Just the right age to start figuring that out too. You might want to do it as well, in a while. _Court_ someone you like?”

Kíli nodded.

“That’s kind of the problem? I was thinking about it, but I’m not sure how to go about it? Can you help me?”

“Of course, I’ll give the best advice I can.”

“Well, you give girls flowers right? But boys don’t want flowers? So how do you do it then?” Kíli asked, and Philip opened his mouth but closed it again, watching him with a strange expression.

“I just wanted to know because I think I’d like to give Will something,” Kíli went on to explain. 

“Which Will? Harlow or Appleby?”

“Appleby. Well, when I went to ask the girls how they’d court a boy they thought I was making fun of them and told me to go away. So how do you do it then?”

Kíli looked at his father expectantly but Philip watched him without answering. He looked regretful for some reason. When he finally did answer, he sounded tired.

“Kíli… I’m glad that you have someone who you’d want to court. But please don’t tell him that.”

“Why?” Kíli frowned, but his father looked serious.

“There are places nicer than this town, places better than anywhere in England, but we are here so we’ll make the best of it,” Philip started, and it was a strange thing to say but this was his _serious explanations voice_ so Kíli listened quietly.

“I know places where giving a boy flowers would be perfectly normal and a sweet gesture. If you’re a boy giving other boys some, too. But we are not there, Kíli. Where we live, such a gesture would only get you into trouble. At best people would laugh at you and think you’re a fool. At worst you might… might end up as an outcast and have few friends, if any at all.”

Kíli stared at his father, wide eyed and worried. He wasn’t sure what that meant. It was confusing that such a simple thing should carry such a repercussion.

“But why?”

Philip ruffled Kíli’s hair with a sigh.

“There really is no reason to it, none that I know of. It is just accepted as something _not done_ in England.”

Kíli pouted and put his chin in his hands. He didn’t _really_ feel like giving flowers was something he wanted to do, but just the prospect of the gesture being punishable sat wrong with him.

“So what should I do?” 

“I’m afraid doing nothing would be the best, for now. Promise me to never… do anything should you fancy another boy? Not until you’re older and you’re _sure_ of what you are doing and risking?”

“Fine.”

Kíli tried not to be upset, but it was hard to try and think of something nicer. He had never liked rules that existed because ‘that’s just how it is’, and this one made no sense at all.

His father watched him for a while, worry still evident on his face. Then he smiled.

“I know it’s not a nice thought, but do you want to talk of anything else? I can tell you more stories, would you like that?”

Kíli perked up right away. The stories his father told were _the best_ after all, and he doubted there was anything that wouldn’t be made better by listening to them. His father had travelled to the far east, faraway villages and places nobody in the little town had ever even heard of.

“Yes please!” he cried out, bouncing on his chair like a little boy again, sausages forgotten. Philip never minded when Kíli was being overexcited.

“Let me see… have I ever told you of the time I got lost on a witcher’s market?”

Kíli’s disappointment at his father’s explanation still weighed on his mind, but for the moment he managed to push it aside. Courting was a matter for another time; the present, Kíli decided, was to be enjoyed in the company of his favourite person in the world.


	10. Homes

Nori turned in front of the tall mirror and examined his reflection. There was only one lamp in the walk-in wardrobe, so it wasn’t ideal to see the full extent of how gorgeous the new dress was. Purple, with fine lace and the soft satin perfect against his skin. The cut complimented his frame in the best ways, and left his shoulders free. There was enough light in the room to see _that_.

He’d done his hair up with a few simple pins, letting it fall over his shoulder, and had picked a few thin bracelets and a necklace to round it off. It was by far better than anything Nori had gotten to wear in his own time before he’d joined the Wind Dancer.

Toying with the ends of his curls Nori glanced around him, at the other dresses that were now his. Both they, and the wardrobe itself, used to be something he wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. It was more than he needed, more than he would have wanted. Now he got to indulge, and still Dwalin would add to the collection when Nori himself felt like he couldn’t possibly justify having more.

Dwalin was the only one who knew of this. It was technically his wardrobe, as it was part of the captain’s quarters. But Dwalin had reasoned that he never had needed it, and that most of his living space was meant to be shared by the first mate anyway. And so he’d made it a gift to Nori, who had put it to good use and filled it with beautiful things for what had been nearly nine years now.

Sometimes when they were on a mission and intercepted ships who delivered goods to Erebor’s enemies, Nori would find dresses or pretty jewellery to take for himself. After a while Dwalin grew familiar with Nori’s size and what styles he preferred, and on occasion would present Nori with a dress he’d bought himself. Despite living on sky ships for so long, he still remembered how to find tailors to create thing fit for court, and Nori adored the fine gowns he was given. Even if he would always insist he didn’t need more.

Like this Nori had gained quite the collection of gowns from all over Arda, even dresses he didn’t want to wear but still loved keeping around for the feel of them. The ones he truly had no use for could be sold or be taken apart to just keep their soft materials.

Nori smiled at himself in the mirror, adjusting his hair one last time, before he turned elegantly and turned the oil lamp off to leave the room.

There was a soft rug laid out in the main area of the captain’s quarters, a nice feeling against Nori’s bare feet. He made his way across the short distance in near darkness from the wardrobe to the dining room, toes sinking into the soft fabric and his skirts swishing over the floor gently.

The room that held the Wind Dancer’s collection of books and maps could serve as both a meeting room and as fine a dining hall as one could find this far up in the sky. The captain _was_ of the royal line after all, even if none of the ship’s finery had ever been of use that way. Dwalin rarely used it on his own, but it was quiet and comfortable for longer discussions about the Wind Dancer’s course or business that needed to be seen to.

On nights like this, when the crew was off board on shore leave after half an eternity in the sky, it was especially good. There was much to be talked about, for the future and about things happening on the trip. Mostly the less urgent matters, such as the crew’s behaviour and tiny maintenance repairs that would have to be taken care of. But it was shore leave after all, so the captain and his first mate took the opportunity to enjoy themselves and indulge as well.

Dwalin was just finishing adjusting the room’s lamps as Nori walked in silently. Their gentle dimmed glow gave everything a much more comforting atmosphere, creating the illusion of a proper fancy hall. There was food set out already, and some of the ship’s logs lay in a small pile on the very edge of the table.

Dwalin looked up as he heard the fabric’s rustling, and he smiled at the sight of it. He hadn’t seen Nori in that dress before, so Nori made a small curtsey and raised his arms to turn and show it off better.

“Would you take me for a noble lady now?” Nori asked and covered his mouth coyly. His eyes sparked in mischief as Dwalin’s narrowed.

“For the most dishevelled lady of the night, sure. Do you like it?”

Nori dropped his hands and looked down at himself. The dress was beautiful and comfortable as well, not restricting his movements or ability to breathe. The material reflected the lamps’ light slightly, making it shine.

“Oh yes, one of the best I have, I’d say.”

He crossed the distance to the table, and Dwalin was there to pull out a chair for him. Despite the years he’d not been at any royal event, Dwalin still remembered how to behave in certain situations. He’d taught Nori how to move and sit without damaging the dresses too much, and though Nori didn’t care for proper and polite behaviour he did think it amusing enough to go along with it.

Dwalin poured him some dark red wine and then sat down at the other side of the table.

“To the Wind Dancer,” he said, and raised his own glass. Nori gave him a slow nod and raised his own.

“And to the best captain of these skies.”

They drank a sip, and Nori savoured the taste of the sweet wine. His opportunities to try good wine had been rare before, and wine bottles were too fragile a loot to steal and sell. On the Wind Dancer they did have the opportunity to get their hands on rare things sometimes, and Bombur would occasionally obtain bottles of cheap but tasty wine. Nori had learned to enjoy the finer things as far as food was concerned.

The meal was a pleasant change from what they usually had as well. Since the Wind Dancer would spend a while docked and near markets, they had access to things that were easily perishable and therefore not a common meal for the crew. It was some sort of wild fowl and vegetables this time, something that wasn’t worth the effort to gather in amounts that might sustain the ship for weeks at a time.

It had been a good idea to start the little tradition. Nori could wear a pretty dress and be completely unconcerned about being seen and discovered. He had wine and food of a kind that was too fancy to be something he’d bother with for himself, and fine silverware to eat it with. He’d have stolen it before, but now he could feel as if he had a life where this was completely normal.

The ship’s logs went untouched as Nori and Dwalin talked of business. Nori had a good memory, and Dwalin went over details of repairs needed and supplies restocked. The Wind Dancer was safe in their hands. Tonight, though, their conversation focused mainly on the crew.

Both Bombur and Bifur’s children had begged to join on a longer journey sometime, and while some were far too young to be recruited, they had been passengers for a few short trips. There was always room to talk about their involvement when discussing hiring new crewmembers or whether the current ones needed replacing.

There was also the matter of the girl of Dale, the only one on board who wasn’t from any of the Durin lands.

“Sigrid truly isn’t what I imagined a princess to be like,” Nori joked as he watched the wine swirl in his glass.

Dwalin looked at his plate, eyes sad.

“You haven’t met many princesses then.”

“No,” Nori admitted lightly. He knew that this wasn’t a topic Dwalin liked to talk about. He’d known a princess once, and the stars only knew what had become of her.

“She’s still very quiet though. Three months and she barely questions anything she’s told. Good thing Mirra took her under her wing, I’m sure the others would have loved to tease the poor kid with their pranks.”

“She’s afraid we’d decide she should go back to that Laketown after all,” Dwalin threw in. “We’re giving her a better salary here anyway.”

Nori hummed in agreement.

Dale was one of Erebor’s best allies. They’d been hit hard in the war some sixteen years ago, and even now it suffered. Their trade routes were blocked thanks to all sorts of foul creatures wandering unchecked, and Orcs still roaming the lands.

What once had been Dale was now mostly ruled by the town nearby, a simple port of water ships. The Wind Dancer rarely made its way there, as their cargo was lightning (officially), and the people of that town barely had any use of it.

Sigrid’s grandfather had ruled Dale before. His family had good ties to Erebor’s royal family, but during the war his people lost their influence and home, and any noble heritage counted for nothing when it came to making ends meet.

Her father had encouraged Dwalin the last time they’d made their way to Laketown. He’d asked to consider any of his children for work, or to recommend them to other possible employers. And now his eldest daughter could see something of the world, and earn money for her family and her people.

Nori liked her; she was unfamiliar with the sky so far, having grown up accustomed to the workings of water vessels, but she was quick to learn.

“We’ll have to make sure she knows that we won’t kick her off,” Nori said, and Dwalin nodded in agreement.

Their crew worked well together, and Dwalin had always made a point of trying to keep it that way. If someone worked well with the others, he tried to make sure they’d want to stay, and so far Sigrid had been a brilliant addition.

They turned to their meals for a little while, eating silently, until Dwalin spoke up again.

“I received a letter from Thorin this morning,” he said between two bites.

“Oh? Another urgent errand?” Nori couldn’t say that he was too surprised. The King always had some of those in store. “He does know that the Wind Dancer is in need of some rest and repairs?”

“Yes. It’s not about anything urgent this time.”

Nori watched Dwalin cut apart a piece of meat on his plate before going on.

“He feels like the Erebor might need more precautions. Orcs have been stirring more in the north, he wants to take no risks. He asked me to return and stay at his side as support. Wants his family back, especially in case he needs experienced warriors.”

Nori’s fingers curled tighter around his fork, the only sign of displeasure he’d show.

“What use would you be to him there if suspicions all he’s got? Does he want you to leave the Wind Dancer for me to turn into a proper pirate ship? Might be he thinks I’ll do questionable things you’re too honourable for.”

“I won’t go anyway,” Dwalin replied with a smirk. “You won’t get our ship all for yourself.”

He returned to his food, still smiling softly at the thought. Nori hummed in reply and rested his chin against his hand, swirling the wine in his glass with the other.

When Dwalin finished his last bite, Nori rose from the chair and gestured towards the couch.

“Grab your wine and lets get a little more comfortable, shall we?”

Dwalin quickly followed suit, taking his own glass of wine and the decanter with more along. He put them on the little side table, and Nori made himself comfortable as Dwalin went to fetch some more lamps from the dinner table as well.

“You know,” Nori started, as Dwalin was about to sit down, getting his attention immediately. “I’ve been on this ship for over eight years now.”

“Longer than most others,” Dwalin agreed with a grin. “Even longer than Mirra and Bombur if you count time actually spent on the ship.”

That was true. Though the couple had already been on the ship years before Nori arrived, they had taken many months off to start a family and raise their children. It was only recently that both of them had started to re-join the crew for trips that took them away from home longer than a month at a time. Not that the Wind Dancer had many of those, they returned to bring Balin and Dori fresh lightning fairly often.

Nori looked into his wine and watched the ripples on its surface.

“I’ve never been anywhere for this long at a time,” he confessed.

As a child he and his family had moved frequently, rarely staying put for more than two years. The longest Nori had ever been able to stay in one place had been seven years, and that time had ended with the war and the need to flee to safer towns.  
Even when Dori and Ori had found a place, Nori had never _stayed_ for long, like the thief he was. He’d never had a home like the Wind Dancer.

Dwalin watched him with a strange expression before he smiled.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, and Nori felt his chest tighten in gratitude.

He didn’t know what to say so he quickly raised his glass and took a gulp from the wine, barely savouring the taste.

“We should celebrate the occasion.”

“Oh really? Celebrate with _more_ than proper food? You’re in danger of spoiling me, Captain.

Dwalin shrugged.

“Whatever you’re in the mood for.”

Nori took only a few moments to consider.

“I want you to play me a song.”

Dwalin stood up and obediently fetched his violin, waiting for Nori to specify which he meant. Nori didn’t know the words though, so he hummed what he remembered of the melody.

Dwalin set the instrument on his shoulder and played the first few notes. Then he let out a laugh.

“Wasn’t that the song they played in that tavern? Remember, when I was drunk and you had to come rescue me?”

Nori grinned.

“Exactly the one.”

Dwalin nodded and started playing in earnest. It was nice like that; Nori had always loved how his tall rough warrior of a captain played such a fragile instrument as well as he did.

Nori sipped on his wine and leaned his cheek against the couch, smiled as he listened to his favourite song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art by hattedhedgehog on tumblr :3


	11. Childish Fancies

Kíli had never been one to neglect his duties, or to break promises he’d given to the council of the town. He’d always guarded the gate in the wall (thought it was little more than a hole really) ever since the day he’d been old enough to do so. He barely ever peeked at the forest beyond it, and despite his curiosity he’d never walked through the hole either.

He had promised his father he would take the duty seriously, and he’d never done anything wrong on the uneventful nights when it was his turn to make sure nobody crossed. Never once, so Kíli figured leaving his post _once_ wouldn’t harm anyone. Nobody ever tried to cross the wall after all, and this was a matter of the _heart_.

Kíli had barely dared to hope that Ned Rivington would actually agree to join him that night. He’d tried his very best to prepare a nice surprise, since it was a special day. Kíli had been in love with Ned for quite a while now, with his easy graceful smile and his clever and elegant ways. And tonight he was turning nineteen, making him two years Kíli’s senior.

He always was nice to Kíli, even if he did smile at mistakes and childish things Kíli sometimes still did. He wasn’t as mature as Ned, but he knew he could try his best and change. For the few kisses they’d shared, it was more than worth it, and Kíli would have to grow up and be a man eventually anyway, wouldn’t he?

Kíli had done his best to find actual good wine and an assortment of cheeses and snacks, as well as a blanket and basket that didn’t look old and worn. He’d done his best to listen as subtly as he could to what the adults talked about in his father’s shop, to make sure he knew what was appreciated by them and those with a fine taste. And Ned _did_ have fine taste. He planned to move to a bigger city eventually, perhaps as far as London. He would know it if Kíli made their date less than perfect.

When everything was prepared there was little time left for Kíli to worry about looking fine enough for such an occasion. He did put on his best waistcoat, and tried to crush his short curls, but there was little use in trying to change his appearance.

He’d been worried about it once the actual preparations had been done. What if the weather didn’t play along? What if the grass was too wet or what if it was too cold to be comfortable? Might be he’d end up embarrassing himself. Ned already had concerns about Kíli being too young to be a good match for him, so Kíli was determined to prove himself.

Perhaps it would be easier to court one of the girls who smiled at him nowadays. Most of them thought he was immature and silly as well, but Kíli had made friends with some, had shared kisses and brought them flowers, and it had been nice. It might have been much better to live like that, feign love with any of the girls (now young women) he’d fancied before, marry her and have children...

Kíli wasn’t sure if that appealed to him at all. And it didn’t matter anyway, it was _Ned_ he’d fallen in love with, and it was too important to deny. Even if all he could have was a deep friendship and kisses where none could see, he loved Ned, and he would fight for that love.

And despite everything, despite Kíli being too childish at times, and how it was very inconvenient to have to be sure of secrecy for tiny kisses, Ned liked him back.

It was nice, when Ned joined Kíli and greeted him with a smile and a quick kiss. The night wasn’t too cold and the stars were particularly beautiful. He had picked the spot where his father taught him how to use swords (even if theirs were wooden) and he knew it well. Any doubt Kíli had felt about his plan’s perfection and worry about leaving his post melted away when he just got to talk to Ned, and watch him enjoy the wine and the food.

“This is a perfect birthday night,” Ned admitted with a grin as he drank wine from the bottle and watched Kíli nibble on his cheese. They’d finished up most of it in a short time, too short for Kíli’s liking. Finishing all of it meant going back sooner.

“You’re a good fellow, Kee, really.”

Kíli beamed at the praise. He always appreciated any nice word Ned said to him, despite (or maybe just because) he knew that Ned might be gone from his life soon. He wanted to leave their small town eventually, after all. He was meant for great things.

“I’ll miss you once I’m moved out of here,” Ned went on, a regretful little smile on his face. Kíli looked at the grass at his feet.

“Do you have to leave?” he asked, careful not to sound too much like a pouting child.

He felt Ned’s gaze on him, watching, taking him in, until he heard a sigh.

“Oh Kíli… I would have left either way. Eventually both of us will find a wife and marry and have our own families. You know that, don’t you?”

And now he sounded pitying, as if Kíli was too stupid to understand that he couldn’t have Ned forever. It nearly hurt more than knowing how Ned would leave.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he whispered.

He did get up to help Ned fold up their blanket, and put away the leftovers and the wine bottle. Kíli took the basket, and followed as Ned said something about wanting to take a walk. It wasn’t too late, and he didn’t want to be parted just because their picnic was over.

They walked, and chatted about things of little importance, and Kíli hoped that Ned would kiss him again.

“You know,” he mentioned casually, “What you said about having to part and find a wife… There’s places where it doesn’t _have_ to be like that!”

“Really,” Ned raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“Places where you can kiss your lover in public. Places where a man can marry another man if he wants to! It’s alright there!”

Ned actually laughed, but when he noticed Kíli’s earnest expression he grinned.

“That’s silly, Kee. There’s no such place and it’s not right either. Who told you that?

Kíli bit his lip, feeling terribly daft for mentioning it. But now that he had, a hope blossomed in his chest and he soldiered on.

“My dad…”

Ned laughed again; as if it was the best joke he’d heard all day.

“And you believed him?”

“Of course! He was there on his travels!”

“Oh sure he was. In the fairy tales he told you when you were little.”

Kíli felt indignant at anyone doubting his father, but he kept his mouth shut as they walked.

“What if it’s true though? Wouldn’t want to live where you can marry who you want?”

Ned rolled his eyes. They’d reached the wall now, walking along its length. It reminded Kíli of his abandoned post.

“Well, if it’s true that men can marry men, it’d still be of no use to you.”

“How’s that?” Kíli leaned his head to the side, confused.

Ned gave him another amused smile and a playful shove to the shoulder.

“Because you’re not even a man, you’re still just a boy.”

“I’m not!” Kíli snapped, aware of how he was being immature again, pouting like that.

“Are too! You still believe your dad’s fairy tales, and you always listen to what he tells you to do, or not to do.”

There was little Kíli could say about the first one without confirming what Ned thought of him.

“I did leave my post to be with you.”

Ned nodded.

“Sure, but that’s just you neglecting it to do something. It’s not hard to just not do what you’re told. Otherwise you’re the most obedient reckless boy I know.”

Kíli frowned at the wall next to him. They had nearly reached the gate by now.

“Really Kíli, you never intentionally break rules,” Ned shrugged. “And that’s fine, but you really are a child and honestly, I’m not sure if you and me would last for too long.”

“But what if I proved you wrong?”

“How?”

“I don’t know… if I broke a rule, wouldn’t that show that I’m not a boy who’s too afraid of doing that.”

Ned considered it for a while.

“I think so. What would you do?”

Kíli looked around frantically, trying to think of something that could be done quickly. His eyes found the wall again.

“The wall. I’ll take a step through the gate.”

Nobody in town was supposed to do that. And Kíli had promised not to. He really shouldn’t, he’d always watched the forests, but he’d never taken that step.

Ned stared at the gate, frowning, before he shrugged again.

“I suppose that’s the easiest thing?”

Kíli shoved the basket at Ned and walked over to the opening in the wall. It felt strange to cross it like that, after so long of being firm at keeping his promise. Too late to back off now, though.

He glanced over his shoulder where Ned was watching him, and gave him a grin.

This was easy. This was nothing.

Kíli brushed one finger over the talisman around his wrist and took a deep breath before stepping onto the grass of the other side.

*

High up, miles upon miles above the ground, a jewel of the size of a child’s fist flashed with the last blue flame of its energy. It hung there, turning for the last time in its rise, hovering on one spot for the shortest of moments.

 _It was time_.

The shine went out of it, leaving it a dull white, and then the stone plummeted down, down towards the ground and to those whose touch would make it burn again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kíli's love is based on the Elf musician in Rivendell 
> 
> Banner by hattedhedgehog on tumblr ^^


	12. Look Up

Stars generally have only one direction to look if they want to see something new and unusual. In their long lives there is little that changes among the siblings themselves, in their slow and steady dance across the firmament. The world below however, is ever-changing.

The mortals of Arda move where they please, as do the mortals of any of the lands beyond the border. Sometimes stars fall down to walk amongst them, sometimes they return without causing a fuss. Sometimes they return holding a half-mortal’s hand and a new star appears among the older ones. There are stories and adventures and tragedies and wars and romances to be observed below. There is nothing but more stars above.

Point is, there was no reason whatsoever for a star to be mindful of what happens above them.

Why should she have expected anything unusual to happen that night, as she idly watched the wind play across an ancient forest’s treetops?

How could she have known that the brief flash of blue above her was more than just one of her siblings?

The hit was unexpected, more startling and terrifying in its wrongness than painful.

She didn’t remember _how_ it was enough to tear her out of the sky, why it pushed her further towards the ground. She remembered a cool dead stone pressing against her chest and then a blur, and the ground she’d watched so many times suddenly chasing towards her before her own light started to burn in a blinding halo around her body.

 

*

 

The chilly halls of the palace barely bothered Thorin anymore. He’d spent a long night working by the fire, and the furs of his royal coat protected him from the biting chill of the mountain winds well enough.

He didn’t ask for a brazier to be brought, nor did he move away from the tall open windows. He wanted to watch his city, his kingdom beyond. He wanted to search the skies for a ship that would not fly anywhere near the capital anyway.

On nights such as this, the pain of nearly two decades past caught up with him, biting at his heart as the wind tried to bite at his skin. It was also the kind of night that left Thorin feeling oddly peaceful as well.

He took a deep slow breath through his mouth, feeling the cold burn in his lungs. The sensation was still lingering when he saw the tall stripe across the sky.

Like an unusually bright comet it fell, pulling a tail of silver and blue in its wake. It burned and Thorin tracked it with his eyes, trying to see _where_ it fell, tried to remember the colour and the image of such a journey but only _up_.

There were few doubts; that moment haunted his memories after all.

He rose from his chair, hands gripping the balustrade. He had barely managed to stand up all the way as the doors behind him flew open.

“Uncle!”

Thorin only glanced back briefly to see his heir standing in the doorway, lit from behind by the palace’s golden lamps. His eyes were wide in amazement and uncertainty.

“You saw it too,” Thorin muttered and turned back to watch the fall. “And you’re right in coming here.”

The prince’s loud echoing steps barely registered in Thorin’s mind as Fíli joined him to stare up into the sky.

“The Arkenstone has returned to Arda,” Thorin whispered, the reality of the situation settling in his bones. “What do you say, are you up for a quest, Fíli?”

*

She’d been a princess once, and now she was of little more than any of the little birds living in the house she was trapped in. Which didn’t mean too much, since the birds were valued guests of her host and prisoner.

Dís could barely begrudge him for being that to her, since he didn’t even know himself. Cursed, just as she was. 

She sighed as the moonlight caught on the slim silver chain around her ankle. A constant reminder of her failure to protect herself and escape. She was not powerful enough a spell caster to find a way to break it, but she’d known that even before she’d tried.

At least her sons were safe. At least her husband had made sure of that. At least… her family had endured. That was all Dís could find solace in anymore.

She wasn’t fluent at the language of birds, but from what little she had managed to understand it seemed that her brother was ruling Erebor now, and that he was a good King, taking care of their people.

Dís sighed and stared up into the sky. She should return to her bed and sleep, but she wasn’t tired yet. She watched the stars and listened to the forest not far from her.

Her eyes were on the sky when there was a bright flash at a singular point, and something luminous began to fall.

A star. A falling star.

But blue flames of the kind she’d only seen on the Arkenstone.

Dís stared, eyes wide and shoulders tense. It couldn’t be. That was not _just_ the Arkenstone, that was a star as well. She was sure of it. But was the jewel really enough to knock a _star_ down to Arda?

Worry settled in Dís stomach. She hoped the star would be alright, and strong enough to return home or just… somewhere safe. She watched, and she worried, and she was powerless to do anything but pray.

*

A sky ship flew on its steady course, most of the crew already sleeping in their hammocks and only few still up to make her ready for the night. Those few were distracted from their work though, glancing up towards the horizon ever so often with gleaming eyes.

“I’m telling you, that star over there’s actually falling towards Arda!” Bofur laughed, hands busy with the familiar task of furling up the ropes on deck so that he could watch the sky. “‘S not just visiting relatives or anything.”

There was some snickering and Nori rolled his eyes. The crew might have dropped everything if it weren’t for him reminding them that the Wind Dancer would not care for what had distracted them if she started to fall from the sky just as that star did. 

“Watch the ship,” Nori reminded them each time they stared for too long. “You can’t change the star’s course, but you _are_ responsible for making the deck safe.”

“I reckon the star’ll just turn back after that tiny trip,” Bofur muttered and stroked over his mustache. “Half my profit of the next lightning on the star rising back up this very night!”

There were some mutters about betting, and Sigrid clutched her warm shawl around her as she stepped to the rail to watch the sky. 

“Do you think it will fall?” she asked, and there was worry in her voice as she turned back to the first mate with a frown. “What if the star actually lands?”

By her side Lifur held on to the rig loosely, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Can’t we go see where it falls?” he asked, turning as well. “We can follow the trail and maybe even pick it up if it does land? What if we catch the star?”

They were children, they did not know about hunting for stars, but Nori shivered at the thought. He’d traveled placed where stars were an expensive curiosity, a pet, a piece of art, or even source of magic. 

“No.”

Everyone turned to their previously quiet captain. Dwalin had been all but ready to leave to his own quarters, had put away his vest and his gear and weapons he usually wore. His shirt was half unbuttoned already, and he’d only stayed out on the cold deck because of the star.

“We have no business flying so far off course to look for something that may or may not reach the ground. Go back to work and then sleep, there’s storms to catch up with tomorrow,” he said, not leaving room for arguing. He did notice Lifur’s slight pout and shook his head again. “Stars fall incredibly fast. Even if they fall, it could be _days_ before we reach the spot.”

The crew went back to their tasks, and Nori walked up the few steps from deck to where Dwalin stood near the helm. They watched the fading light of the star, and when Nori looked up he saw how Dwalin’s face was tense.

“Do you think this means anything?” he asked quietly, “for Erebor?”

“I don’t know,” Dwalin replied with a shrug. “I hope they don’t reach the ground.”

Nori nodded, and Dwalin scanned the sky above them.

“That star was small. One of the younger ones.”

Nori shuddered at the thought and muttered, “I hope Bofur’s right and the star’ll rise back.”

“Poor thing,” Dwalin said softly, before shaking his head and walking into the corridor leading to his rooms. Nori watched him go, then turned to the horizon, watching the star’s way.

*

 

They were quiet on their way back to town. It had been silly to cross the wall, and Kíli felt a little disappointed of how… uneventful a thing it was. Nothing more special than jumping over a garden wall.

Ned had shrugged at least, having the manners to not tease, and had given Kíli another kiss. That was always something worth savouring.

As Kíli was staring at the grass, it was Ned who saw the shooting star first.

“Oh!” he exclaimed and grabbed Kíli’s hand to point it out.

“Look at this!”

Kíli looked up at the beautiful silver and blue comet, amazed at the sight. He’d never seen anything like it. When he tore his eyes away again, Ned was still fixated, eyes shining as he watched it fall.

“Would you run away with me?” Kíli asked. “To where we could marry who we want and not care for anything?”

Ned only turned back reluctantly, furrowing his brow.

“There’s no such thing, Kee.”

“But what if there is? If I bring you back that star and make you a gift of it, would you agree to run away and _try_ to find that place?”

Ned watched Kíli with a strange expression for a little, then he turned to where the star’s trail was already disappearing behind the trees.

“I _would_ like a star…” he started.

Kíli watched him with anticipation, until Ned finally nodded.

“Yes, if you could bring back a star I could try and run with you.”

Kíli couldn’t help the soft cry of ‘yes’ he let out at that, or the triumphant fist he raised to the air. He’d do this. He’d bring a star for his beloved and he’d run away with him to do as he pleased in the land his father had talked of.

“When will you start?” Ned asked, and Kíli’s reply was immediate.

“Right away! I will pack a bag and I will go search for it.”

“But it fell behind the wall,” Ned pointed out, amused.

“Who cares, beyond the wall is not that special. I already stepped across it once and nothing happened. You’ll see, I’ll get it. Just you wait.”

And then Kíli leaned up to initiate a kiss for the first time. He felt the smile on Ned’s lips, and then he was already running home, thinking of all he’d need to pack before he could go.

He’d find a star, and then his life would truly begin.

 

*

In the deepest caverns of Ered Mithrim the long dormant hills of treasure started to shift. Coins and precious jewels scattered and slid over each other, decades worth of dust hidden by the new gold.

A puff of hot air rose up as a giant scaled head appeared between the gold.

The sound of a waking dragon droned through the cave, sending even more coins to slide over the hills.

Finally Smaug opened one of her golden eyes. It took in the surroundings and the treasure, searching for what had disturbed her slumber. She’d been interrupted too many times now, and not even a century of sleep had passed yet.

Dragons have two kinds of sleep, very different in their duration and purpose. Like any creature, dragons sleep when they are tired, after a good day of causing havoc in the world or when their bellies are pleasantly full and they curl over their loot to take a nap. But dragons are creatures of magic, dark and wild as it usually is. They consume energy when feeding on foreign stolen magic, or when their prey had magic of its own.

Even so, for their magic to replenish itself a dragon must lie down for a deep sleep, lasting decades or even centuries; failure to do so would lead to weakness of the body and lessening of their magic abilities. For all that they are great baests with jaws large enough to swallow a rider along with their horse whole, with claws sharp as razors, most dragons rely on their magic more than on their strength.

Smaug had tried to lie down for her deep sleep, but any trace of bad mood vanished as she felt the presence of shifting energy prickling under her scales and her eyes rose to stare at the cave’s ceiling. Somewhere up there a _star_ falling.

Smaug had not slept in too long. She had tried to feed on foreign energy, but any hopes to gather enough had been lost when one of the most powerful sources of energy had been pushed out of her reach when those tiny rats of Erebor had defeated an army of Orcs. She craved more energy as much as she needed it to regain her full strength. With more magic she could be strong enough to seek more, and consume it to expand her power further in her insatiable thirst for energy.  
She’d helped the Orcs on their ransacking tours, with the agreement that they bring her Erebor’s treasures and magics to add to her hoard and to feed upon. Since the plan had failed, she had been left numb and so tired. 

Smaug simply hadn’t had the time to rest; there had been so much to _do_ and she hadn’t wanted to waste an opportunity. She had a truly magnificent hoard to gaze at and sleep under, and still her greed made her want so much more before she would be satisfied enough to sleep. 

But now there was a star, and she didn’t _need_ to sleep. Stars, the tiny but _powerful_ things whose magic might give any dragon a century without needing to sleep for energy’s sake. Just the thought of how the pretty little thing’s heart would taste like made Smaug involuntarily lick her sharp teeth.

Oh, it would be a _feast_.


	13. By Raven Wings

The house was quiet when Kíli stumbled into the kitchen. He was near giddy in his excitement, and tried his best to keep a clear head as he looked around to decide what he might need for his journey. He grabbed an empty bag and put a few apples in it, then opened up some shelves to look for more. He was just about to reach for a loaf of bread when the stairs up to the bedrooms creaked and the light of a lamp shone on the boy.

Kíli didn’t have to turn to know his father would be watching him with his amused smile. Philip was still dressed and looked as if he had been doing some work, and he was looking down at his son with no surprise on his face.

“You’re supposed to be guarding the gate tonight, aren’t you?”

Kíli bowed his head sheepishly and nodded. Philip only laughed.

“You wouldn’t be the first to skip that. But tell me, what were you doing instead?”

Of course Kíli told him everything. There was little he’d hide from his father, and this was so important and grand that it felt as if the words were spilling from his mouth of their own accord.

Philip guided him to the kitchen table as he explained about Ned and the date, and how he really wished to go somewhere with him where he could _be_ with him. Philip smiled a little as Kíli blushed and talked of it, but he did not tease his son for the fancy nor did he tell him off. He knew about Kíli’s affection for the Rivington lad, and he trusted him to be cautious after the first few times of gentle reminders to watch his steps.

Kíli hesitated to mention stepping across the wall, but he was always honest with his father. As he recounted the events, did Philip’s smile wavered and his brow furrowed, though he still did not interrupt or tell Kíli off for his disobedience. Encouraged by the lack of scolding, Kíli told the rest of the story, of seeing a star fall, and promising Ned to bring it to him as a gift, so that they could run away together, even if he had to go beyond the wall.

“Just like your stories, dad,” he said meekly. “I want to be in love without fearing for myself and live with Ned and not have to _hide_.”

Philip was silent, looking sad all of a sudden. 

‘ _He’ll say no_ , Kíli thought with a twinge of dread, ‘ _he’ll lock me away and make sure I can’t run, or worse, make me_ swear _to stay in the town until I rot from boredom_ ’. Kíli never felt good about lying to his father, or breaking promises, and he really didn’t want to have to run if his plans were not approved.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” he went on hurriedly. “I heard the tales of fairies and magic, but how bad could it be to journey like this? I promise you, I’ll be back with the star real quick and nothing will happen to me! Dad, you travelled to much further places than just that leap over a wall!”

Philip sighed and folded his hands. He rubbed his thumbs over his lips, something he only did when he was thinking really hard or was terribly worried. Kíli tried his best to remain calm and not show how nervous he was.

“I promise I’ll be fine, but I can’t see why you wouldn’t let me-“

“Kíli…” Philip interrupted gently, effectively shutting his son up.

“There is something I haven’t told you yet… about… where you are from and… what you really are.”

Kíli frowned as Philip looked out of the window, a forlorn expression on his face. He sat quietly until his father finally spoke again.

“You see, what I told you about my travels wasn’t quite the truth. Technically I have never stepped over England’s borders.”

He stared at his hands and Kíli tried to understand. Had the stories been lies?

“You are certainly not the first to step over the wall, in either direction. Otherwise there would not be a guard on the gate, and there would be no stories about magic and fairies from over there. Barely anyone feels like crossing, but some _do_.”

He looked up, eyes shining in the light of the lamp.

“I was one of them Kíli.”

Kíli’s eyes widened and he leaned closer, eager to hear of it.

“Is it true what the people say? That there are fairies and great monsters and magic all about? Is it as fantastic as the tales?”

Philip laughed, some of the sadness easing off his face.

“It certainly is much more fantastic than one could ever imagine. The people are very different in how they live, and the world is a strange place. Even after years of living there I didn’t quite manage to get used to it.”

“ _Years_?”

“Oh yes, seven I think, it was wonderful, I never did want to leave… I had to, for your safety.”

Philip sighed and reached over the table to squeeze Kíli’s shoulder.

“You were born in the land of Arda. You… I suppose you are only half human.”

Kíli’s mouth hung open at the revelation. He, not human? How could that be?

“My mother is from Arda? Is she a witch? A powerful fairy?!”

Philip grinned and closed his eyes, remembering.

“She _was_ a good spellcaster, yes. Caught me off guard the first week I was wandering heaven-knows- where through some godforsaken forests, and made fun of the little boy from over the wall for the longest time. Used to show me tricks that blew my mind and in the end most of them were childrens’ games in their world, not even real magic. My Lady Blackbird I called her. All the birds used to flock to her as she walked. She was…”

Philip drifted off, smiling softly.

“Lady Blackbird,” Kíli whispered, trying to imagine a spellcaster from the magical land. Surely she’d be beautiful, all fairies were? Maybe she had the same wild dark hair as his own curls? Maybe she was the ruler of the forests. Then he remembered what else his father had said.

“And you had to leave because of my safety?”

Phili’s smile froze and he opened his eyes.

“There was a war. Orcs… monsters from the north were running rampant over the lands. Your mother’s family was in too much danger and she… They were caught or killed or who knows what else. I never dared return in fear of putting you in danger again.”

Guilt crossed Philip’s face.

“It’s all over by now, and safe, and still I wouldn’t dare.”

“How do you know?”

Philip took Kíli’s hand in his and pulled his sleeve, revealing the talisman he always wore around his wrist. He tapped the blue stone in its centre with a finger.

“Your mother made these. She cast a spell, and this one protects and brings luck to whoever wears them, to a point. If you know what you are looking for, you can feel the magic. I feel that she is alive with how this one buzzes faintly; in this one one can feel that the land is at peace by the way the threads shine or look dull, and another tells what the upcoming weather will most likely be like.”

Kíli stared at the talisman, examining it for the first time in years. The beautiful colourful threads that had never faded formed a crest, the tiny stones in it glittering very a little in the lamp’s light. It was real magic and he’d never realized.

He stared at it for a while, not noticing how his father had stopped talking and how he was watching him. He nearly missed what he was saying once Philip spoke up again.

“I will help you travel to Arda.”

Kíli was nearly too overjoyed to be of any use as Philip fetched a better travel bag and started packing it with things Kíli might need. Kíli was asked to fetch a change of clothes and some thread in case he’d need to fix them, he found dries sausages and bread and some fruit, as well as water and then tools such as a tinder box and a small knife.

“I doubt I could keep you from Arda even if I forbade you,” Philip said as he checked the shelf for his medical kit. “And I’d rather send you off with advice and a promise to take care.”

Once everything Kíli deemed necessary was packed, Philip made him follow him up to their rooms. Kíli wasn’t sure what else he might need, and he watched as Philip unlocked the chest at the end of his bed. Out of it he took a carefully wrapped bundle, and spread it out on the blankets, showing Kíli what was inside.

“A real sword,” Kíli gasped and reached out for it. His father had never used more than wooden sticks or very simple blunt training swords. This one looked like a sword straight from a tale of heroes and adventures. 

“I never was that good with it, but I took the sword with me as I ran,” Philip explained and searched for more.

He handed Kíli a little bag of silver coins with strange symbols on them, and then another, bigger, which Kíli opened eagerly only to find old and broken things. Old embroidered handkerchiefs and bracelets of glass beads as well as empty shells of fob watches and a small snuffbox.

“These coins are a currency on nearly all of the great lands of Arda, and most will accept it as good silver. And these trinkets are what you can trade with in most of the forests and villages. The people like pretty things even if they seem of no use to you. Pay for hospitality and give them as gifts and you’re sure to find someone to lend you a hand.”

Kíli nodded and placed everything in his bag before strapping the sword to his hip.

“Remember, there are creatures that can disguise their true nature in these lands, so be careful of those who seem to want something from you and are overly friendly.”

“Sure!”

“And now, I’ll show you how to travel to your star in no time.”

The last thing Philip handed to Kíli was wrapped delicately in light cloth. He unfolded the fabric very carefully, revealing a few dark feathers. They were pure black, though they also shimmered in alternating red and blue at the very edges.

“There is no better way to travel than on a raven’s wings. It’s the most powerful thing your mother left behind. Simply take one and… well, you need to _focus_ on where you want to be, and you must focus on your wish to fly. Crush it in your hand and the feather will take you there. Do not use them up too quickly, and remember, each feather only has one use.”

Kíli picked one up, turning it in the light. It was soft and felt warmer than it ought to be, as if it had been plucked from the bird itself mere moments ago.

“My mother…” he asked “who _was_ she?”

Philip looked pale as he stared at the feathers.

“Her family is not safe wandering around in Arda. There are folk who would hurt you if they knew you were kin. If they even suspected, smelled the lies or saw it in your dreams. Promise me you won’t try and search for them, and don’t tell people what your mother could do.”

He gestured at the talisman on Kíli’s wrist and the feathers in his hand.

“I don’t know enough to tell anyone. Why isn’t it safe?”

“Because you as the youngest would be easy prey. Don’t… Please be careful about what you tell people. Be vague in your answers, and do not give away your destination or goal to those who have not gained your trust. You want to find your star, don’t you? Don’t get distracted, and return to England safely.”

He watched Kíli check his pockets and shoulder his bag. Kíli gave his father a cheerful smile, and was surprised when his shoulders were grasped and he was pulled in until their foreheads touched.

“This is a sign of love, respect and familiarity in the land I lived,” Philip said, voice sounding tired. “Good luck, my little sparrow, and return to me.”

Kíli tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He barely remembered the last time his father had called him that; he must have been a very young child indeed.

“I will, dad.”

He put the feathers into his breast pocket and held up only one of them.

‘ _Fly me to my star_ ’ he thought, focusing as hard as he could as he clutched it in his fist. ‘ _Help me win my true love’s heart_ ’.

He saw his father smile and raise his hand to wave, and then everything was a blur of black and blue and he was gone.

It was the strangest sensation. There was nothing solid in the world, no up and down or any sense of direction except _forward_. Kíli was sure he felt countless wings beat against him, flying faster than any bird should have the right to, but there was no pain. The wind tore at his clothes and hair but it did not feel as if he was in danger of losing anything he was carrying.

The feather in his hand had been so warm before, and now it felt like icy lake water.There was only the blur of the ground and the sky, all too dark to make a difference. Sometimes Kíli thought he saw the stars above, closer and brighter than he was used to from the English night sky. But it was hard to catch glimpses of anything.

He flew, and he thought of nothing but the star and wanting to find it. He’d bring it to Ned and everything would be good, and maybe they’d return to Arda together, with his father too, and he might meet his mother and learn of the land he was born in.

The feather carried him at a steady pace, and despite everything it was a rather comfortable travel method.

Or so he thought.

A screeching filled the air and through the mess of feathers Kíli could see black _things_ flying near him, on the same course. They reminded Kíli of smoke coming off something badly burned, and he was sure he’d not seen them before.

For a moment Kíli thought it was part of the feathers’ magic, but then there was a jerk in his steady flight and the cloud was _reaching_ for him, trying to get through the shield of invisible wings that carried Kíli in their midst.

He screamed and felt himself being pushed down, and the wrath of the _thing_ trying to get at him, and he could not understand. He was closer to the ground, he realized, trying to escape the cloud. Tree tops and branches seemed to only few feet below him by the time the cloud let go with another angry scream.

The monster was gone but the wings were still speeding up, losing altitude and shaking in their flight. Kíli heard the crash of dry wood and leaves, and he could not breath for a moment, and then the feathers were gone, letting him fall, letting him plunge into something soft.

Kíli heard the startled scream of a woman, and the next thing he saw was the ground hurrying towards his face.


	14. The Star That Didn't Shine

It took several moments before Tauriel dared open her eyes. The fall and the following impact had shaken her, though it had not been … painful. Startling perhaps. Completely wrong. Against everything that was right. She was not supposed to be … down… She was not supposed to feel _down_ either. Not like this.

Earth and cold ground pressed against all of her back. She felt cold, actually _cold_ though not enough to want to do anything about it. There was a slight breeze playing with the ends of the loose red hair spread around her, and when she breathed she could feel the air in her throat and her lungs expand. Stars did not have bodies that did this. Usually.

Usually stars did not fall into the realms of Arda either. They _descended_ and only if they wished to. Tauriel had never actually ventured so low. Of course she’d always been terribly curious, but a star did not _need_ to move closer to see what she wanted to.

Tauriel’s hands moved over the ground, felt the dry earth between her fingers and against her feet. It was so strange to lie there. Only when she heard nothing but the wind for quite a while, and felt nothing shift or fall more than she had, did she dare crack open an eye.

‘ _Oh my friends_ ’ she thought bitterly as she saw the stars above her, too distant for their voices to be heard.

Very carefully she started moving her head, afraid of the world shifting away as it had before. It remained solid though, and Tauriel saw a wall of earth rising on either side of her. She lay in the middle of a large crater; the force of her impact had created a giant crater the size of a small field, and beyond were rees, with broken branches and trunks or felled entirely. Her involuntary fall had not given her the possibility to land gently with no disruption of the kind she’d caused.

Tauriel groaned in discomfort and was startled by the sound of her voice and the feeling of it in her throat. She had not sounded this way up in the sky, and being able to _feel_ sounds was strange, thought not, she thought, entirely unpleasant. 

Her body obeyed her when she shifted up on her elbows and sat up, and though each motion felt strange she had no problems doing anything. She flexed her fingers and stretched her legs, feeling how her muscles responded and how it was different than up in the sky. Tauriel wasn’t sure whether the ease with which her body accepted being in Arda annoyed her or made things easier. Possibly a bit of both, as she did not need any more problems than she had now, though the fact that everything felt completely fine was disconcerting.

She had not meant to be forced there. She had wanted to see it one day, but not after a graceless crash, and not from being hit. Hit by some _thing_ that had pushed her all the way down.

Tauriel got up to her feet and looked around. She was sure that she’d seen a beautiful shine out of the corner of her eye as she fell. The thing should be somewhere close by. And indeed, only a few steps away she saw what had hit her.

“A necklace,” she muttered, and went to pick it up. “And not even a pretty one at that.”

The shine she’d seen could not have come from the dull colourless stone that was the centre of the trinket. The setting was gold and rather beautiful, only clasped around the top half of the stone and leaving the bottom free as the pendant hung from the chain, but it held no power whatsoever and only reflect the starlight without shining on its own either. How disappointing.

“I was so sure you were special. I suppose you still are since you knocked me down.”

Tauriel sighed and put it around her neck, letting the pendant slide under the neckline of her dress. It had knocked her down so she might as well keep it, even if it wasn’t the powerful artefact she had hoped would be responsible for the fall. Her sisters would laugh if they knew what had caused her to drop. If she ever managed to get back home, that was.

Tauriel shuddered as she thought of being stuck forever on that spot of dirt she’d fallen on, down and alone with no voices to speak to her, stuck and…

She firmly shook her head. Even if she didn’t know how to return she wasn’t _stuck_ either. She could easily climb, or maybe even just walk up and cross the forest to find people. It might be exciting even, to do so. Hadn’t she always been curious about visiting one day?

“I might as well go and see what’s beyond this little hole,” she said to herself.

She had to pull her long silver skirts up a little as the light material caught between her legs when she tried to take the large steps needed to climb up the slope. It was easy to get up and Tauriel didn’t lose her balance even once. It wasn’t as hard to get used to walking on ground as she’d expected, though maybe she was moving terribly awkward, there was no way of knowing.

There was a lot more forest before her than she’d have guessed. The closest trees had broken, but beyond Tauriel could see nothing _but_ trees, tall and stretching into every direction. At least the stars were visible as well, all above her and stretching to the edge of the branches.

It was a comfort to know that they’d be watching her, but also a little embarrassing. Especially the older ones, and those who’d already walked the Earth would know if she made a fool out of herself. There was little Tauriel could do about it either way, so she’d have to hope for the best.

“You all look so pretty from down here,” Tauriel said as she tried to recognize her friends. A little wistfully she wondered if her shine had been nice from down here as well.

Things looked different from where she was. Distances and spaces she knew existed seemed endlessly large or small to the point of disappearing, no matter the real size. Stars that had barely bothered waking night after night looked as any other, as did those who loved to dance more than anything. There were other things she’d never noticed as well; clouds and branches obscured the view for once.

Tauriel was nearly mesmerized by the sight of clouds from below. They looked closer to her now, and though they were sparse tonight she realized that now they looked soft. 

One cloud in particular caught her attention. It looked less light and fluffy than the others, and it seemed to move fast, grow larger and move closer. Unlike the other clouds it wasn’t a light grey, but a deep dark blue, and it seemed to actually brush and move the treetops it rushed by.

Tauriel squinted at it and tried to remember whether she’d seen anything like it before. Anything would be different of course, as she was watching it from a completely different perspective.The cloud dipped just below the treetops for a moment, and there was a faint rustling and crunching as it continued in its flight despite the obstacles in its path. Before she could even make a first hesitant guess as to what it was, the thing turned towards her and the next thing she felt was the painful impact of something large against her and then she was flying back down into the crater she’d only climbed out of moments ago.

*

 

The thing, as it turned out, was a young man, or maybe a boy, Tauriel wasn’t entirely sure. He rolled away with a wheeze and staggered to his feet and looked around, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. While Tauriel managed to sit up a little by leaning on her elbow the boy was already taking steps around her, staring up at the sky and at the broken trees.

“Oh… I can’t believe it,” he whispered, voice wavering, and then louder “I _flew_. It works, the feathers do work.”

Tauriel groaned as she tried to sit up more, watching him pace back and forth, looking in every direction as though each new view held something exciting rather than just broken trees..

His eyes skimmed over Tauriel but he seemed to be too full of excitement to really acknowledge her that moment.

“Dad was right, everything is true. This means I’m in Arda, doesn’t it? Oh. _Oh_.”

Tauriel stayed where she was as he took the boy in. He looked rather short (or was she tall among the people of Arda?) and he had dark curly hair that reached his shirt collar. His clothing was ruffled and a little torn from his own fall, but he had a travel pack, and even a sword on his hip, and Tauriel wondered whether he was older than she guessed.

He rambled on without actually speaking to her, saying something about feathers and clouds and something that must have confused him. Tauriel had no idea what he was talking of either so she paid no attention to the words until something made her perk up.

“This… is a crater isn’t it? This is where the _star_ fell!”

For the first time the boy’s eyes fixed on Tauriel’s, staring at her intently. He had come for _her_? Why? Had he travelled in a way that confused him just to get to her? And wasn’t it just _great_ to lie in the dirt for that. It wasn’t very dignified, and Tauriel didn’t know how to feel about it being the first impression that the first mortal she met had of her. There was nothing to do about it now, and she was prepared to answer his questions.

“Excuse me… Sorry, miss, ma’am… But have you seen the star?” the boy asked eagerly.  
Tauriel stared at him without answering. What did he mean, the star? She was right there and there hadn’t been any others falling that night.

“It fell from somewhere…” the boy glanced up at the night sky to point, but dropped his hand near immediately with a frown. “Well, it fell, though I’m not sure from which direction. It must have fallen somewhere very close by.”

How wonderful. He wanted to find a star and he had not even bothered to find out anything about her.

“Yes I have,” she said and raised an eyebrow at the excited way the boy started to look around again.

“Would you tell me where it is? It’s really important to me to find it and bring it back home.”

He was still turning on the spot and squinting at the trees as Tauriel finally sat about brushing her dress out a bit. The material didn’t wrinkle too much at least, light as it was.

“Shouldn’t it be shining? Maybe it’s lying in the forest…”

He looked back at Tauriel, expectantly, but she shrugged.

“I wouldn’t think she’d be in the mood for shining, considering she was just knocked down twice today, once right out of the sky and then by a flying boy. She probably had other things on her mind.”

The boy looked at her as if he was waiting for her to make a joke or say something else, but Tauriel simply stared back at him with a raised eyebrow. She didn’t know what to add anyway, her statement had been simple after all. It was up to him to figure it out.

“No,” he laughed as he realized. “ _You_ can’t possibly be the star. Stars are shiny and full of light… And you are obviously a person…”

He made a vague gesture at all of her. His smile wavered at Tauriel’s unchanging expression and her raised eyebrow.

“Aren’t they...?”

“What did you _think_ stars were?”

Tauriel started to get up again, and the boy immediately offered her a hand. She was taller than him, as she stood, and now the boy was looking her up and down with a worried frown. His eyes lingered on her long red hair and pointy ears, the silver and blue of her dress, the same colour she had shone in the sky and as she fell .

“No,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly, his brow furrowing.

“Stars don’t just shine at any time,” Tauriel explained, feeling a little sorry for him. Maybe some mortals just didn’t know. What if his quest had been to find whatever it was he had thought the star was? It was surely disappointing to him.

“We sleep during the day, not shine, and even if we do, you wouldn’t see. _I’m_ not shining because _I_ just fell all the way from up there and I have other things on my mind.”

“Oh no,” the boy sighed and took a step back. “You mean to tell me that stars are _people_?”

“What did you think we were?”

The boy crouched before losing balance with a grunt and gracelessly sitting down on the ground.

“I thought… I thought stars are like shining orbs or light, or maybe like jewels or…”

He covered his face with his hands, looking utterly miserable.

“I can’t just gift a _person_ , why… What am I supposed to do now? Why did you have to be a _person_?”

Tauriel watched him for a little bit, unsure about what to say. The boy had turned from happy and excited to miserable and distressed so quickly. She took a few steps towards him and awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“I’m sure you can find a solution. What did you want… your star for in the first place? I could still help?”

The boy looked up at her and sighed.

“Not really. Before I knew, I wanted the star… well, I needed it as a gift for my love, you see? I wanted to bring it back to prove that my love is true and to find a way so that we can be together. I don’t know what to do now.”

He shifted to sit a little more comfortably and hissed in pain. Only now Tauriel noticed that his ruffled clothes were torn on his leg, and a patch of blood had stained the fabric.

“This seems like a more urgent problem,” she said and leaned closer with a frown as the boy threw her an annoyed look.

There was a long slim gash going up his calf, not very deep but the blood had not yet dried. 

“How did you not notice that? Isn’t it painful.”

“I had other things on my mind,” the boy parroted her earlier statement and waved her off, and cautiously poked at the skin near the injury. It couldn’t be too painful then.

“Now this,” the boy shook his head and took of his bag to search for something in it.

“Do you have medicine? Something to dress the wound with?”

Tauriel vaguely wondered whether she could learn something useful about the ways of healing the mortals had. Though she doubted she could learn something from _just_ watching.

The boy hesitated and blushed for some reason before pulling out some handkerchiefs from his pocket.

“That should work.”

Tauriel nodded and watched as he carefully folded one of them to press against his cut, and then set to tie it into place with the other. She helped hold it in place as he made a knot.

“Problem solved,” she said and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure out the rest as well.”

The boy smiled and Tauriel thought he looked incredibly endearing like that.

“Thank you,” he said, and again as Tauriel offered him a hand to get up.

They stood silently for a while, Tauriel’s eyes scanning the forest around them and the boy looking up at the stars wistfully.

“Do stars have names?” he asked eventually.

“We do. Mine is Tauriel,” she told him.

“And I’m Kíli,” the boy replied, holding out his hand for her.

Tauriel took it and squeezed a little, smiling at the way Kíli seemed to relax.

“We really should get out of here,” she said, looking around at the crater’s edges. “I could try walking through the forest.I don’t know how large it is, but I’m sure we’ll make it if we just pick a direction and walk.”

“We? Don’t you want to return to the sky?”

Tauriel looked up at her friends shining beyond her reach.

“I can’t return. I don’t know how. I didn’t mean to fall, and it’s not within my power to return without aid.”

If that surprised Kíli he didn’t show it. He simply shrugged and started climbing up the slope to the forest. He struggled more with it than Tauriel had, using his hands as support. She didn’t have a bag and she wasn’t injured though, so she followed slowly until both of them reached the edge of the forest where the trees had not broken.

“Can you walk?” she asked as she saw how Kíli was not putting any weight on his leg as he peered into the forest.

“Yes of course. There’s little else to do after all.”

He picked up a branch that seemed thick and solid, to use as a walking stick.

“I say we try to find the edge of the forest and then we shall see what to do next. I expect it’s easier when you’re not alone.”

He glanced at Tauriel and she nodded, glad to have somebody who at least knew the world of mortals from his own experience. Together they left the starlit clearing and walked into the unknown.


	15. The Lifeless Woods

The forest stretched out into every direction as they walked, with the same view for what felt like hours. They had only walked for a little bit before Kíli found something that seemed like a path to him, so they’d decided to follow that rather than walking off straight ahead into the unknown.

His mind was buzzing with the events of the night. He’d gotten Ned to agree to run with him, had found out that he was not of the world he’d grown up in, he’d experienced magic and had been attacked, he had found a strange woman with an ageless and otherworldly air about her; he’d found a _star_ …

It still pained to know that the thing he’d placed his hopes on was a woman (or a girl? How did stars age?). ‘ _Not that there was anything wrong with that’_ , he thought to himself, ‘ _it would just have been so much_ easier _if the star wasn’t a walking, talking and breathing thing._ ’ Kíli could not just carry _her_ back to England, go down on one knee before Ned and ask him to run away with him to live in Arda. That simply… This simply was not how it was supposed to work. Kíli had been supposed to find a beautiful shining orb, or gem, or _something_ and then go wander through this new world. Perhaps he might have had an adventure as well, discover the lands his father had walked through, and where his mother and he himself had been born in. He would have returned to Ned, proving that he was a man and worthy of his love, and then he’d take Ned’s hand and lead him to show what he had found…

“Do mortals travel like you did often?” Tauriel asked as she stepped over an especially large root growing across the path. “I had never seen such a thing.”

“Not really,” Kíli replied, unsure of what he could tell her. She might be a star, but that did not mean it was safe to tell her of the magic he carried. “It was just a spell and not my doing either.”

She looked curious at that but did not ask further. Neither of them felt like talking much anymore, though they had chatted a little, about meaningless things. The forest sucked out any desire to make noise and though telling Tauriel a little of England was chasing away some of the unease, it also got harder to find the will to speak rather than just walk.

There was little scrub around, and the trees seemed old and pale and dry and knobby and though they seemed like part of a normal forest Kíli still wished they were anywhere else but here. He could barely pinpoint what exactly bothered him, but it was enough.

“Do the leaves look red to you?” Tauriel had asked at some point.

They had both stopped for a while to try and squint up to see the canopy. The night wasn’t particularly dark, but it did colour everything in greys, so it was hard to be sure. The star was right though. Despite it being summer the leaves were all dried up and a dull red of autumn, but the trees didn’t look sick enough to warrant that. Kíli wasn’t sure what to make of it, but they walked faster after that.

“Tell me about the forests where you grew up. What is England like? And what was all that about impressing your love?”

Tauriel was curious and looked calmer than Kíli felt, and he chose his words carefully as he answered. Sometimes it was enough to chase away the shivers running down his spine.

He spoke of the most mundane things, unsure at first of what a star would need to be told and what she’d seen of the world below. He talked of his home and what he did there all day, of how he loved archery, and how his father had taught him how to fight with a sword. He left out details that seemed a little too specific as to where exactly he was from, and Kíli was careful not to mention Ned’s name or that his love was a man. He did not know what Tauriel had to say about that after all, and he’d rather not have the only living creature in his company sneer at him for his preferences.

It was nearly embarrassing to tell Tauriel of all these things. It seemed so... _unimportant_ and boring, just the life of a young man who had lived his whole life in the same village. She was a _star_ and how could she possibly care?

Tauriel never once showed any indication that she was bored. Each time Kíli glanced up to make sure she was still interested in him rambling she looked back, deep green eyes wide and focused on him as a tiny smile showed on her lips. Kíli tried his best to make his storytelling interesting at least, convincing himself that she was curious about a mortal’s life.

The forest showed no sign of ending, and Kíli’s leg cramped and ached and he gripped his walking stick hard to keep from showing any signs. He did not want to rest, not in this forest, not… It did not feel like a safe place.

“Are you in pain?” Tauriel would ask occasionally, leaning closer, her hands hovering over Kíli’s shoulders.

His ears and cheeks burned in each time she did so and he shook his head to reassure her with a smile. That one like her should have to worry about a stupid gash a boy like him had gotten… She should not need to.

The more Kíli glanced at her the more he believed that she indeed was a star. She did not shine, as she had pointed out, but how was a human-shaped being supposed to shine anyway? She had large pointed ears, peeking out of the long flowing curtain of her red hair. Tauriel’s dress was not of any material Kíli had ever seen before, and he was certain the girls back in his town would sigh and envy her for it. It was light and flowed around her body as she walked elegantly and with surety, as if it were woven from the moonlight reflecting of water at night. It had a similar colour to the stars shining above (only that the dress did not shine on its own, it merely reflected prettily), had wide sleeves that reached just past her elbow and despite being so long it covered her feet, Tauriel did not seem to be hindered by it. There was embroidery of some kind on the fabric, but it was too dark to see and Kíli did not want to stare for long enough to make out the pattern. 

“The forest is so quiet,” he sighed as he tried to will his leg to hold him. 

“Is it?” Tauriel looked around. The wind made noise of all kind around them, and Kíli thought it sounded a bit like home. Except that the _only_ natural sound to be heard was the wind; there was a rustling that _might_ have been the sound of woodland creatures, and no birdsong. 

“Yes. I wish we’d see anything but trees. A deer maybe, or even just a tiny squirrel. But nothing.”

Tauriel looked at him and then gazed into the darkness of the forest. Perhaps she saw more than he could, and maybe any animals that fled from the intrusion were in her sight.

“I have seen nothing else either. Do you know of forests that sound alive but have no life in them?”

Kíli wanted to laugh before he realized that she was being serious. Of course she wouldn’t know how forests were supposed to be like under the canopy…

“Well…” Kíli focused on the uneven path for a while as he tried to remember. “My dad used to tell me tales of big forests when I was a child, from his travels, I think some of them were magic.”

Tauriel listened carefully and Kíli thought that perhaps the stories he had believed to be fairy tales might come in useful.

“He once spoke of a big forest where the trees are magic. I was so young then, he hasn’t said anything about it for _years_. If I remember right it’s magic in the way that only trees live in it, and no animals. If you wander through it and get tired you could lie down between the roots. But if you fall asleep the trees will reach for you with their branches and… tickle you.”

He trailed off, staring ahead. Tauriel laughed but a sudden cold made Kíli shiver.

“I was just a little child back then. My dad would always tickle me at that point in the story.”

Kíli glanced up at Tauriel, hoping to take his mind off his suspicions. But the look in her eyes was as worried as he felt now.

“Do you think that it was part of the truth?”

“I think there _are_ forests like that, but the trees certainly wouldn’t _tickle_ you.”

“They would…”

“There are no animals in here…”

They both looked up around them, at the branches hanging low and the roots growing everywhere, all of it seemingly reaching for the only two people of the area. The branches looked like bones, shapes that might have been taken for sleeping birds now looked like carcasses of long dead creatures overgrown by the dry branches and leaves. The rustling they’d heard before and that was no different from little mice and rabbits in the undergrowth not came from the leaves themselves, the forest whispering and living and hunting for them, slowly, as only the trees could. _They had to get out_.

“Come, this forest can’t last forever,” Kíli said and took Tauriel’s hand to pull her along.

They did not speak at all anymore, walking as fast as they could with the uneven path and Kíli’s leg aching more and more. Days seemed to pass as they nearly ran, the wind waving the branches and making it look as if fingers were trying to find them, grasp them and pull them to a grisly death.

‘ _Just a little longer_ ’, Kíli tried to tell himself each time he nearly fell over in his pain. ‘ _You can rest as soon as you’re out of the cursed forest._ ’

The beating of his heart roared in his ears and he tried his very best not to panic. His head hurt and he wanted to sleep, but surely sleep was death where they were. It had all been too much these past hours. He had not slept for many hours, he’d missed his evening wall shift to be with Ned, and had been caught up in the the excitement of finding a falling star and the information his father had shared. The magic, the flight and chase and fall, and now his leg, was too much, it all was draining him.  
Not to mention the fear. He could not stop there, he could not. He barely registered the trees after a while, and could only focus on staying on the path.

“My friend, you must rest,” Tauriel’s voice whispered over and over, close to his ear.

Her hands were surprisingly strong each time she steadied him, so unlike what he’d thought such delicate things could do.

“Kíli, you cannot run if you hurt yourself so, look, there is fresh blood on your leg! Why don’t you sit just for a moment. I do not think mortals should be pushing themselves as you do... at least walk slower, I shall take care that nothing happens.”

Kíli took her hand each time she did that, and tried to lead her onwards. She was not safe either. 

‘ _This is my fault,_ thought Kíli miserably. ‘ _She’s a star and I’ve led her through here, she should not have had to deal with this at all. And on her first ever visit to earth as well! What rotten luck._ ’

Soon enough Kíli was startling to stumble more and more and they were still inside a forest. They still were not safe and he could not fail like this, so close to the end. He had his feathers, but the last time he’d used one it had resulted in a leg injured so bad that he was having trouble walking at all. He did not know if the feathers would carry Tauriel as well, and he could not abandon her in a place like this. He could not.

He just wanted to sleep. He wanted air and a clear mind, open areas and rocks above him around him, holding him, lulling him to rest, yes just rest…

Kíli startled when Tauriel was in front of him all of a sudden, grasping his shoulders and forcing him to stop. It took him a moment to realize that she was speaking.

“- we’re out, I really do think this was it! The forest is gone!”

“What-?”

Kíli looked around and saw the trees in each direction. They were not out… at all. But now there was no path either, only grass and fallen leaves, of a normal healthy colour. Behind them were green-leafed trees and bushes, and beyond them Kili could make out open grassland, though he could have _sworn_ it was where the bad forest had been only minutes ago...

“This forest looks so different from the one before, I think we’re safe now.”

And indeed. Everything looked green and just like the forests back home, only older and bigger. As Kíli leaned against a trunk he could hear the soft noise of animals as well.

“Safe,” he muttered and slid down onto the ground as his leg finally gave out.

He managed to put his bag down before he curled up on the ground. Now he could sleep at last.

“We need help…”

“You need rest.”

“True… You too.”

Kíli slipped out of consciousness before Tauriel could reply. It didn’t matter, they were out of that sinister place at last.

 

*

The dragon descended from the mountains of treasure slowly, slithering in winding dangerous motions. Flames lit up in the lamps scattered in the treasure, illuminating and making it all shine perfectly. It’d been almost two decades since Smaug had last gotten to stretch her wings properly. She stopped when she reached the end of the hall, looking up to the vast cavern ceiling and feeling her bones ache for flight, and to unleash the power of fires and hurricanes her body easily could create.

That was for another time though; now she had other things to do. Things that would gain her power, more than she could gorge herself on, rather than something to simply display the immeasurable force that she already was. 

Leather creaked and snapped and coins rained down from where they’d stuck to the jewel-encrusted hide. The dragon twisted and writhed, relearning the form she was moulding into, and before the coins could even settle down again the dragon was gone and her place stood a woman.

Smaug sighed and ran her hands over the smooth skin and delightful firm body, relearning her other shape. She could choose any shape, any face for the mirage of mortal worms, but this one had been her favourite for centuries now. It suited the particular brand of mischief and seductive power her dragon voice carried as well, perfect for her style. The dragon power that would never leave her fully shimmered and shone right beneath the skin of this shape, evident in every elegant calculated twist and movement. She was beautiful, ageless and perhaps better than any mortal could be (what with their reliance on dumb luck when it came to their appearance), but Smaug did not care that she might seem a little _too_ perfect to pass for a mortal woman. Barely anyone had ever taken a closer look, distracted by the image, and those who _had_ never guessed that she was a _dragon_ of all things. Not until it was way too late for them.

Walking was strange now, but the familiarity would return with time. Smaug watched the coins clink under her bare feet, their reflections giving her skin the magnificent glow her scales had been given. Hair bounced just over her pertl curved hips, soft against her back. She’d have to get used to that as well.

The crevice in the rock near her treasure led to the rooms she’d made just for the times she needed a living space suitable for mortals. It was furnished like a palace, the naked rock visible behind the pretty faded curtains and golden pillars she had arranged there before. All the furniture and treasure chests here had been carried off from palaces and ships, stolen from long dead little nobles and Queens. Only the best for Smaug’s collection.

A twist of her long finger and the candles flashed to life here as well, illuminating the large mirror in a corner. A second twist, and the chests opened with a moan of the old wood, letting the silks and satin flow out to her. She did not waste too much time on choosing, for already Smaug new that it would be her favourite dress that would cover her for this sort of journey.

‘ _Might as well honour that sweet child by looking my very best as I eat its little heart_ ,’ Smaug mused and smiled as she made the golden pendants float over to her, choosing the best.

When she was done with her pretty mortal disguise Smaug stepped to the mirror. A marvelous, flawless face looked back at her, mouth twisted in cruel glee and eyes shining with the orange of glowing coals. The dark red hair matched the deep burgundy of her dress, leaving her shoulders and large parts of her chest bare to show off the smooth bronzed skin. Her waves of hair were woven through with impossibly thin golden wires that glinted in the light. 

‘ _More than the worth of a Queen, and surpassing any princess or Lady that ever walked this land,_ ’ Smaug mused with satisfaction.

It was her right to be vain; she was better than any of those morals could hope to be. And she’d prove it to them soon enough. Once she had her star there would be little they could do against any of her whims. First though, there was a one-handed Orc she needed to visit.


	16. Wisdom and Warnings

He stood on the roof of his father’s house, staring out over the only place he’d ever called his home. The streets stretched in every direction, further than one could usually see. Kíli could make out the rooftops of his school, and the little shop just one street away from his father’s house. He could see fields in the distance, the rocks he used to play on when he was younger, and the big old tree he’d climbed once before getting in trouble for it. Birds perched on the branches, many hundreds of them, a thousand shiny black eyes watching him where he stood.

He could see Ned’s house too, though it ought to be too far and hidden from view by the church. Ned was on the roof with him, so close that Kíli could feel his warmth though he could not turn to look at him.

“I love you,” he said earnestly to the empty space in front of him. “We can run away together and be happy, I promise! Say you love me too?”

“I’ll say it,” Ned replied, right against Kíli’s ear. “Show me how brave you are, bring me a pretty star as a token and we’ll run.”

It was really all Kíli needed. The stars were right there above him, he only had to reach out, take a step and-

The roof was gone and the town stretched on and on until Kíli could see all of England from where he stood. It was such a dismal sight, endless greens and greys and browns, the bigger clusters of buildings making up cities hidden away by clouds of smoke. His eyes turned towards Arda, surveying the world behind the wall. And night sky, nothing but night and darkness. 

Kíli dreamt he was floating. Everything was warm and safe and for a little while he thought he was at the bottom of a lake, darkness in every direction. Then there was light and it did not feel like water at all, more like mild night air.

Things glittered above and around him, making it look as if he was hanging between the stars, or maybe in a pitch-black cavern with crystals lighting the way. When he tried to find his footing he discovered that there was no ground anywhere, as if earth did not exist, but there were mountains on the horizon. He wanted to be _there_ as soon as he spotted them.

Those mountains were _safety_ , even thought Kíli was sure he’d never seen them before in his life, and he felt the strange urge to crawl into a narrow space and lie with the rock all around him in every direction.

There were wings around him again, feather tips brushing against his face, but this time it did not feel like when Kíli had used the feather. He turned his head to try and see what was around him, but in the darkness between the stars it was impossible to see more than a hint of movement in the shape of birds. They were flying to follow him, or they all were headed towards the mountains anyway.

Kíli did not know how long he was flying before he realized that there was no sound. And he only noticed when the silence was replaced by soft whispering. It grew louder along with the stars shining brighter and brighter, until Kíli thought it was just like a clear full moon night. He did not think much of it until he heard them call his name.

“ _Kíli. Kíli you are in grave danger, hear my warning._ ”

He turned and looked in each direction, not quite sure where up or down was anymore. The birds were gone and he could no longer see the mountains. The light was brighter than anything he’d ever seen when he finally met it and he was sure it should have blinded him.

There was a woman standing in the nothingness looking solid and yet as if she was only part of the stars above and around her. It was hard to focus on her, each time his eyes tried to fix on a specific detail it seemed as if he was staring down into space, as if she was just a mirage, and yet she was _there_. Her hair was gold like the sun itself and her white gown glittered in countless little diamonds. Kíli felt like he should not stare at her so openly but he could not look away and there was kindness in her that made him feel safe.

“ _Child of the stone and the wind_ ,” she spoke, her voice all around and inside him. “ _Listen closely and remember when you wake. There is danger in the world, danger for any child of the sky who falls into Arda. But there is evil waiting to hunt the one whose path met yours, waiting to find you too. Be cautious and protect her. Do this for our sister, protect and aid her while you are together._ ”

A hand cradled Kíli’s cheek and he felt the smile more than he saw it on the woman’s face. She was so tall, taller than Tauriel, taller anyone had any business to be and he felt like a little child in comparison.

“ _I have walked Arda so many times but it is not within my power to return right now. I can’t even speak to you outside of your dreams. Be brave. Watch over her where her kin cannot._ ”

Kíli could not open his mouth but he thought ‘ _I promise!_ ’ as hard as he could and the star woman’s smile widened.

Then Kíli felt the wind tugging at his clothes and she was gone as the stars grew smaller and smaller and suddenly there was grass tickling his ear. Above him were only leaves and branches, and not even the tiniest bit of night sky to be seen.

The sounds of the forest around him were calm and just like a forest was supposed to be. There a hot pain in Kíli’s leg, sharper than the pain of a pulled muscle. He thought hazily that he should see to that, but not just yet. Now his mind was foggy and strange as he tried to remember the dream he’d had. Details slipped away and dissolved into nothing as Kíli tried in vain to grasp what it had been about. He did recall… a voice and the soft plea to protect Tauriel for as long as he could. He wondered why he had been given the task, and then he recalled the warning: he and Tauriel were in some sort of danger. Kíli imagined a great beast waiting to jump on them as a patient cat would pounce on two unsuspecting mice. That was the second warning of the kind he’d been given and Kíli felt the sudden need to run away to _anywhere_ safer than the forest ground.

Kíli sat up a little, finding his things just where he’d left them. Hopefully he had enough in his pack to be equipped for what was to come. He turned to wake Tauriel and tell her that they needed to move on, but the space between the tree’s roots was empty and there was no trace of the star. There wasn’t even a mark in the soft moss or any indication that she’d slept there at all. Increasingly terrified, Kíli turned in every direction and tried to peer into the pre-dawn darkness of the forest. He even tried getting up and looking behind the tree, but there was no trace of Tauriel.

Kíli groaned, as he hobbled around the tree’s trunk, trying to focus on his frustration rather than on the fear making his chest feel tight. Who knew what Tauriel had gotten herself into now? Had she simply disappeared and returned to the sky? Had she run off or… or had something happened to her?

He had promised to _protect_ Tauriel, and now he’d gone and lost her right away. For a moment Kíli wondered whether he’d really just dreamt the kind voice, but he dismissed that thought nearly right away. It had felt way too real.

Just as Kíli was about to face his failure and reached the spot he’d slept in, something light caught his eye. Looking up he saw Tauriel standing a few feet away between the trees and giving him a relieved smile.

“You shouldn’t be walking if it hurts you,” she said just as Kíli blurted out “where have you been, I thought something happened-“

Tauriel did not look hurt at all; both her hair and dress were as neat as if she’d only taken a quiet stroll through the night. At least she was safe and Kíli let out a sigh.

“Where did you go? I thought you’d go to sleep as well.”

“Why would I sleep now? No, I went ahead and found us help. We are both lost and you need someone who can take a look at your leg.”

Kíli raised an eyebrow at that. Help? In the middle of the forest? Then he saw that the darkness behind Tauriel was _moving_.

She stood and smiled and something enormous was _right behind her_ , bright animal eyes watching Kíli and coming closer, and he nearly stumbled back in his shock.

“Tauriel… Tauriel come over here and stay behind me,” he managed to force himself to say, hand curling around the hilt of his sword.

But Tauriel only arched an incredulous eyebrow and walked towards him slowly, the beast following suit. Now Kíli could hear its breathing and still Tauriel showed no fear of it.

“Look,” she said as she stepped out of the shadows with the giant bear right behind her. “I have found us help.”


	17. Honey Tales

The way to the bear’s home was one of the strangest experiences Kíli had ever lived through (even compared to the events of the last 24 hours). The creature introduced himself as Beorn, a shapeshifter and hermit living in the forest Tauriel and Kíli had walked into. He did not mind the trespassing – “you are two children lost in the woods, why would I suspect you were of causing trouble?” – and generally kept away from strangers.

Tauriel had come across him as she’d tried to search for help. She had not gone to sleep and her only explanation was that stars simply did not sleep at night. She had found Beorn, and Beorn had agreed to help her companion as she told him of their situation.

He ordered Kíli to sit on his back to return to his home, and Kíli had protested quite strongly. Sitting on such a large beast was the last thing he wanted to do. 

“I can walk!” he protested as Beorn snuffled at his bag. “I promise you this isn’t necessary. I- I can’t ride on your back, I can’t even ride a horse!” 

‘ _I’ll just be a burden,_ ’ he thought to himself, ‘ _and that’s the last thing I want to be on my own quest._ ’ 

“You can barely stand with that leg of yours and you’d be more of a burden trying to keep up. You weight less than a kitten to me.”

Kíli had tried to protest again when he was already up on the bear’s back with his fists clutching his fur. Tauriel walked by their side, and he tried to argue that he could not possibly sit while she had to walk on her own. She waved him off and insisted that she loved trying out walking on the ground, and he did not try to speak after that.

The shapeshifter’s home was at the edge of the forest, with fields stretching out on either side, and animals walking around a large barn. The buildings were bigger than any in Kíli’s hometown, but then that was to be expected with a bear being the inhabitant. Beorn ambled past the animals and into the house, which was more like a long hall with even more animals sleeping in the corners. Kíli was made to sit down on some pillows and Beorn told him to take off his coat and put away his bag. Tauriel sat down in front of him, frowning in sympathy when Kíli winced at the pain in his leg.

The bear moved to the other side of the hall and started twitching and shrinking before their eyes, until there was a man standing in his place. He took a few moments to get used to the new balance of standing on two legs before he put on some loose homespun pants and returned to the two. Beorn was taller than any man Kíli had ever seen, with great shaggy hair and a face that was reminiscent of the one he had as a bear. He didn’t look less intimidating with no claws or sharp teeth, though.

“Let me see that leg of yours then,” he said in a voice nearly as deep as the bear’s growl had been.

Kíli nodded and started to roll up his trouser leg, but Beorn shook his head.

“Off with those, how am I to tend for it properly otherwise?”

Kíli’s cheeks burned and he shook his head.

“It’s really not that big, I can reach it without doing that.”

“Don’t be shy now, this is about your health.”

Beorn did not look as if he’d argue any further on the matter so Kíli glanced at Tauriel and then looked away to start unbuttoning his pants. It hurt a little to get them off with the aching of his calf and the dried blood but in the end he’d wriggled free of them and was sitting in his underwear.

Beorn crouched down to take a closer look, his big hands incredibly gentle on Kíli’s ankle as he turned it to see better. Dogs walked towards them on their hind legs, one carrying a bowl of water in its front paws and the other holding out a stachel to Beorn, which only seemed surprising to Kíli. Tauriel leaned closer as well, much to his dismay. He just kept making bad impressions on the star, didn’t he? First the danger he’d put her in, then his panic and now sitting there with his pants off. Kíli would not have wanted to sit around like this with any stranger he depended on, nor did he want to get undressed with a woman around. That was just indecent.

Tauriel was unfazed though, and Beorn started speaking to her softly, telling her about how the wound was not deep and would heal very quickly, how Kíli probably was in pain because he had overtaxed himself and hadn’t properly cleaned it. He gently cleaned the blood off, showing how it had bled and how that made the cut look worse than it was. Then he took proper bandages and some tins out of the dog’s satchel and started dressing Kíli’s leg, explaining to her how it was done.

“Now you know how to take care of him,” Beorn told Tauriel, who nodded solemnly while Kíli eyed the bandages on his leg.

“Why don’t you speak to me when explaining? I can take care of myself!” Kíli demanded indignantly.

Beorn gave him a look and raised his big bushy eyebrows.

“Is this why you didn’t even notice you were injured, refused to treat your own wound for propriety’s sake, and then walked until you could not stand anymore, child? This one told me, and she will help you so that you can’t hurt yourself further.”

Kíli pouted but refrained from talking back to the bear-man. Beorn laughed at his expression and shook his head.

“You don’t know anything of the wild, do you? Here, take this to relieve the pain and sleep. It is still early.”

Beorn fetched a cup with some sweet-smelling liquid in it, and since Kíli realized he had slept very little during the night he accepted it and drained it as quickly as possible. It did not taste foul like any medicine he’d ever taken as a child; in fact, as soon as he tasted it he could not recall its flavour, only that it was soothing, and soon he started to feel drowsy. Another dog (or the same? It was hard to tell) brought a blanket for Kíli and carried off his trousers, to where, Kíli could not even care.

He saw Tauriel leaning over him and taking his hand with a smile, saying something reassuring. But he could not hear it, for by then sleep had taken hold of him, and he saw and thought no more.

*

Tauriel watched Kíli for a while after sleep had overcome him. He looked peaceful when he did that, no matter what had bothered him before. She had never experienced sleep in her new body; before it had always been like a break between nights and shining. Stars did not change much when they fell asleep, but the mortals did. She wondered what it was like. When watching what was happening below she had never paid too much attention to that, since sleep meant one was not doing much of anything.

Beorn put away the supplies he had used to tend to Kíli’s leg and in a corner one of the dogs set to washing and sewing the tear on Kíli’s pants. He glanced at Tauriel, waiting quietly as she resumed watching over Kíli. Finally he waved her over to get up and follow him outside.

“Let me show you the plants you might find in the forests to eat or to use as medicine,” he said, leading her towards the small garden.

Chickens ran between their feet, not minding their presence, and ponies watched them with calm intelligent eyes. Tauriel wondered whether they were just like the dogs inside the house, in that they knew all their host did, apart from being able to use human speech.

Tauriel listened carefully as Beorn explained how to recognize the various weeds that grew in his garden and how to tell them from poisonous ones. She might not ever have the need for it, but who knew how much a mortal such as Kíli might depend on any of this. Even she had use of it now that she had a body; as long as she was down here, she was susceptible to most of the ills he was. She only became aware that her mind had wandered when she noticed Beorn had stopped talking, too busy turning the leaves of a lion’s-tooth in her hands. She glanced up to see the bear watching her, contemplating something.

“I do not know what you are,” Beorn started and his nostrils flared as he took a sniff of the air, “but you are not of Arda. And neither is your boy back there.”

Tauriel did not deny it, though she felt as if Beorn meant something more.

“You smell of the sky,” he went on. “Or at least nothing earthly I have ever encountered. And you smell of magic more powerful and different than what you can use, there’s traces of it all over you, though faint and fading steadily.”

“Yes,” Tauriel agreed. She wondered whether to tell him that she was a star, and that she had been knocked out of the sky by a necklace.

“I do not need to know _what_ you are. Best not to tell me at all. But I know that something like you will be hunted and coveted for the magic or even just the otherness you have in you. You’re magic, ancient and otherworldly, but to some creatures you are like just like a deer to be hunted and used, for profit or even just for sport.”

His voice was grave as he spoke, and Tauriel noticed him rubbing a faint white scar on his right wrist, eyes unseeing as he stared straight ahead. His words were concerning, but Tauriel didn’t know what to make of it. This felt too vague to her.

“I don’t know where you are going, or what either of you are, but do not tell people the truth unless there’s really no use in denying what they know already. Be careful in Arda.”

“I will. Thank you. For the advice and the help too.”

Beorn smiled at her.

“This part of our world may hold more pain and darkness than it did thirty years ago, but Arda is still full of wonder where it is not corrupted. You will love it, and your boy will too.” 

Tauriel wanted to tell him that Kíli wasn’t _her boy_ \- she’d only met him last night! - but decided to keep quiet. 

Beorn looked around the garden before turning to Tauriel.

“Do you wish to help me gather some vegetables for a dinner? Or I can show you how to feed my friends here-” he glanced down “-since they seem to like you.”

Tauriel followed his gaze to see the chickens from before gathered around her feet. They still pretended not to be fazed by anything, but some had sat down on the hems of her dress why she had stood still, and others were picking at the embroidery there, clucking softly. 

She froze and stared at them with wide eyes, unsure how to react or escape the fowl, and then Beorn’s roaring laughter startled her again. He looked so entertained by her expressions and his chickens’ rudeness, and despite herself Tauriel felt how her lips twitched until she was laughing with the bear.

*

It was late noon when Kíli finally woke up from his blessedly dreamless sleep. The first and only thing he became aware of was how _hungry_ he was.

He didn’t even need to ask Beorn for food, as the bear had bade the dogs to set the table for three. There were many bowls of nuts and dried fruit, cream and honey and pies upon pies, filled with berries and apples, as well as a plate of honeycakes and nut wedges. There were vegetables and some warm dishes, but no meat, Kíli noted. It might be a strange choice of food, but right now Kíli was too hungry to question any of it.

His leg ached as he got up and quickly got into the patched up trousers one of the Dogs returned to him. Tauriel was already sitting by Beorn’s side, smiling and nibbling at a honeycomb. Kíli sat opposite of her, on the many cushions Beorn had laid out so that both of them could sit at his high table comfortably. He pulled up a plate and started loading his plate from any dish that was close enough to reach. Beorn seemed to be much less grumpy now, smiling and filling a cup with milk to hand him, for which Kíli barely managed to say ‘thank you’ in between bites. 

He ate and ate, possibly more than was good for him, while Tauriel only picked at the dishes and chewed slowly to savour the taste before trying the next. When Kíli slowed down he must have devoured two plates worth of food. He glanced at Beorn guiltily, but the man only drank his mead and didn’t mind.

“Now tell me,” the skinchanger said, looking from Kíli to Tauriel. “How did you end up in my forest? I love good stories, and it has been many years since I’ve met strangers as unusual as you.”

Kíli glanced at Tauriel, but Beorn was looking at him now, as if he expected Kíli to speak.

“Uh… We got lost in this big dark forest and-“

“No, not that. I want to hear the entire story: tell me of how you came to Arda.”

Again Beorn was not looking at Tauriel to speak, so Kíli wondered how to best explain.

He told more than he had the first time he’d spoken to Tauriel about it, trying to make the story sound interesting to the bear. Beorn was a good listener, commenting when there were pauses and laughing at the funny moments. Kíli spoke of how his father had been an adventurer before, how he brought home magic of all sorts. He described feathers that broke and flew you on Raven’s wings, and Beorn roared at the description of how he’d landed on Tauriel rather than the ground (while the star in question huffed and rolled her eyes as her lips twitched into a smile).

For a moment Kíli was nervous as he tried to explain why he’d wanted to go to Arda in the first place. He did not mention the falling star or that the star itself happened to be sitting at this very table, only said that he wished to bring back a token of his devotion to his love. 

Beorn perked up at that.

“A sweetheart you say?” he asked curiously, “must be quite something to go on a quest for. Tell me more! Voice like birdsong, I bet, with hair that smells of flowering valleys in spring?”

Kíli did his best to keep his description vague. His leg was still aching, and he did not want to be made to leave now should the bear scorn his love for a boy. Nor did he want Tauriel to think badly of him. Who knew what they’d think?

When Kíli started to describe how they ended up in the cursed forest and tried to flee on the path Beorn’s face darkened.

“Wretched trees. They should keep away from my forest and set themselves on fire to spare us the bother! You did well with staying on that path, those trees are bloodthirsty but slow and the path buys time to flee. Had you left it, you might not have survived.”

That was all of it, and when Kíli finished his tale he realized that he did not know where else to go from here. He did not even know how to get home.

“Do you know how to get the Wall?” he asked, fearing the answer.

Beorn considered for a moment.

“Yes, I have heard of a wall that is a portal to a different world. But I never cared for which direction it lies in. Give me a day, and I shall ask my bird friends to find out. Someone else will surely know.”

Tauriel was contemplating something and Kíli felt a knot of sadness in his chest. How was he supposed to return to Ned like this? With nothing to show for his troubles? With nothing to prove he was a man worthy of his love?

“Where do you wish to go from here?” Beorn asked and Tauriel shrugged.

“I never meant to end up in Arda, but now that I am here I would love to see more and wander through the world. At least for as long as I need to find out how to return home.”

“And you, boy?”

Kíli bit his lip. Where _could_ he go? There was no star to show Ned here. He still wished to see the land his mother was from and he’d been born in. Who knew, perhaps it held wonders as beautiful as he’d hoped the star to be?

“I will join Tauriel to explore Arda- that is, i-if you don’t mind?”

Tauriel’s smile lit up her face.

“I would love to go on an adventure with you!”

Kíli smiled back in relief. An adventure… Wasn’t this something he’d always wanted?

Beorn nodded solemnly.

“Then you shall stay for a day or two, rest, plan what you want. My animals like you and you are not evil, so I see no reason for why you shouldn’t be my guests.”

Kíli reached for another honeycake but then handed it to Tauriel instead, who grinned and accepted it. This opportunity might just be the best thing to ever happen to Kíli.


	18. A Market in the Middle of Nowhere

It was early morning when Kíli and Tauriel set out again. Two nights at the skinchanger’s house had been more than enough for Kíli’s leg to heal well enough that it only felt a little tender. Beorn had taken a look at Kíli’s supplies on their last evening and had been satisfied with the contents.

“It is enough to feed one person for a while, and you should be able to replenish on the road,” he had said.

But since it wasn’t just Kíli going, Beorn also gave Tauriel a bag and a coat of very warm roughspun material. The cold did not bother her as much as it did Kíli, but both Beorn and Kíli agreed that her light dress wasn’t good travel attire. If there’d been more time Beorn and his dog companions would have sewn Tauriel a proper outfit . There were honeycakes wrapped in handkerchiefs and tiny pouches of dried berries and nuts to snack on. Beorn also supplied them with flintstones and thread. 

“Head in either direction with the forest at your side,” Beorn had advised, “There are villages near the rivers and the trees and if you walk far enough you might even reach a town.”

The last item Beorn gave to Kíli was a scrap of cloth with some places Beorn remembered scribbled on it with coal, with smudges next to the ones to keep away from. Most of the smudged areas were mountains, and Kíli wasn’t sure why being cautious of mountains rubbed him the wrong way. It wasn’t much and certainly couldn’t work as a map, but Kíli was grateful for it. In exchange he gifted Beorn the empty husk of a fobwatch. It was essentially junk and Kíli felt bad for giving a seemingly useless gift to their host, but Beorn was genuinely pleased. 

The sun shone down on them but it wasn’t too hot, even when the two wandered outside the shadows of the nearby trees. Arda looked far more welcoming by daylight and with no cursed things around. Kíli enjoyed the nature, which didn’t look too different from England but seemed larger somehow, with the pastures of grass and the outskirts of the forests everywhere. Tauriel walked as fast as Kíli did, but he saw her eyes taking everything in, trying to examine everything they passed.

Sometimes she bent down to look at flowers, sometimes she peeked under the leaves of bushes briefly before walking on. The sky was one of her favourite things to watch.

“I have never seen the world by daylight for so long,” Tauriel told Kíli as she glanced up at the fluffy clouds and the sun from underneath her hand. “But you mortals spend your life in the sun’s light.”

“Of course, everyone loves the sun more than anything, it’s warm and we can actually _see_ …”

Tauriel made a displeased “hmph” noise as Kíli tried to figure out how to explain the difference between night and day to somebody who didn’t see it as he did.

“But stars are much more beautiful,” he hurried to reassure her, afraid that he might have offended her, “We can actually watch them and many people do so to come up with stories or to figure out how you move…”

Already Tauriel was smirking at him, and Kíli realized that she had not been upset at all. Still, she also seemed to try and hide how pleased she was for the quick praise and now Kíli found himself pouting. He couldn’t keep it up when that earned him Tauriel’s light laughter. She radiated enthusiasm and joy in anything she did, and Kíli could not help but laugh along with her. 

The star was different now that she was more content with the situation. Freshly fallen, knocked off her feet and stuck in a cursed forest with an injured boy probably shouldn’t have made Kíli assume anything about what stars were like. Now that she was fed, used to the idea of walking and had spent several days in good company Tauriel was much happier and moved with ease and elegance. Her positive mood and curiosity rubbed off on Kíli, even if the world around them wasn’t that much different from England so far.

He wasn’t interested in plant life, but he joined her to look at things near their path more often towards the evening, happily explaining how to tell birds apart by song and how he’d seen girls in his town make flower chains. When they settled down to snack on Beorn’s berries he even let himself be talked into showing the very amused star how it was done, though he did not remember how flowers were supposed to be tied together. It didn’t matter, Tauriel simply stuck some of the tiny yellow mayflowers behind her ears and kept them for the rest of the day.

When the sun started to set Kíli was way too tired to walk on, despite not having reached a town or village.

“We should rest,” Tauriel suggested. “Beorn lives far off any other people, it might take a while.”

They found a large tree and settled between its roots. Tauriel spread her coat out to lie on as Kíli pulled out bread and cheese and some of Beorn’s honeycakes. He wasn’t sure how quick the supplies would dwindle but perhaps it was alright to eat some after such a long day.

“You should sleep,” Kíli told the star as they ate. In the days at Beorn’s she had stayed awake far into the night and had slept in in the morning.

“Stars don’t sleep at night,” Tauriel waved him off and brushed at her skirt to get rid of the last few crumbs of honeycake. Kíli noticed that she had only eaten one though, explaining herself by saying that stars did not eat that much.

“But you are in Arda now, and we walk during the day.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Kíli rolled his eyes but didn’t want to argue with her. It didn’t feel right to tell a star what to do.

He curled up, using his bag as a pillow and closed his eyes. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep after such a long day, and before long he started dozing off. When Kíli briefly cracked open an eye to see if Tauriel was still there she was already sleeping. He smiled, and then he was asleep as well.

*

The next morning Tauriel stared pointedly at Kíli as he desperately tried to change his bandages out of her sight.

“Why are you always so embarrassed when you must remove clothes in front of me,” she asked with an amused smile. “It’s not as if you’re completely bare either.”

“It’s not proper to undress in front of people,” Kíli tried to explain. “Especially people you don’t know very well, and not in front of women either!”

“Why?”

“Because you… you just don’t do that! It’s rude to show off too much skin…”

Tauriel raised her eyebrows, unconvinced and Kíli shook his head.

“Men and women don’t get undressed near each other, not even a little, unless they… well…”

His cheeks started to burn worse than before. He quickly finished changing his bandages, noting how he probably wouldn’t need them for much longer. He didn’t want to speak about things like this with Tauriel. It made him uncomfortable to even think of it. Fortunately Tauriel only muttered something about mortals of England being strange and let the matter rest.

After the breakfast they set out again. They found a small stream coming out of the forest and swelling into a river, and since it ran the same direction as they were walking they decided to follow it. Tauriel carefully gathered up her dress and waded in the water for a while, smiling at the water splashing around her ankles. When it got warmer Kíli tied his boots to his bag and joined her as well. It had been a while since he’d last splashed about in a river, and the nostalgia of his childhood happiness was so great that he reached down to the water impulsively to sweep up a wave of water onto Tauriel. She shrieked in surprise and laughter and kicked back to soak him as well.

Tauriel let out an indignant noise as she tried to brush the water off her dress and face, and Kili was suddenly afraid that he'd done something terribly insulting. Tauriel narrowed her eyes at him, and the next thing he knew his legs were kicked from under him and he was on his arse in the shallow water, the star towering above him with a hand on her hip and an eyebrow quirked. 

Kili spluttered in surprise, then burst out laughing, hands raising in surrender. 

"Well played, good lady, you have bested me this day," he said in his best mock-chivalrous voice. "Would you mind give me a hand up?"

He held out his arm. She almost grasped it, before narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. 

"If you even think about tricking me and pulling me down there with you I promise I'll hide the rest of your trousers before you have the chance to stand up again. And I'll eat all the honeycakes."

Her face was completely serious, and Kili gulped and promised "I won't, I swear, I swear! But please, I really would like a hand up...my leg and all?"

Tauriel immediately helped him up, her expression immediately worried. 

"Did I hurt you? Forgive me, I-"

"I'm fine, you just caught me off guard. I had no idea you could even do that!" Kili assured her. He adjusted his soggy clothing, wrinkling his nose, and added "I also hope you didn't really mean that about hiding my trousers." 

Tauriel only chuckled and wandered off to explore more of the river.

Around midday they walked back onto the grass to have a snack and dry. Kíli nearly fell asleep again, with the tall grass providing the softest bedding and the sun shining down on him as the sounds of summer were all around him. Tauriel sat up straight though, and pointed into the distance.

“There, smoke!”

Kíli looked the way she’d indicated and saw a few columns of smoke rise up behind a bend in the river and some trees. It looked like the smoke of a small village and he quickly pulled on his boots to stand up.

“It means there’s people there! Lets go and take a look?”

They walked quickly, eager to see who might be settling there. Kíli worried a little about whether there were any bridges and on which side of the river the place would be, since he didn’t want to wade through the water that would reach up to his belt. He needn’t have worried. Soon Kíli and Tauriel reached the river bend and a little village came into view, just in front of them.

It was a pretty arrangement of mismatched houses, all quite small and with no visible order in how they’d been built. The walls were painted in cheerful colours with patterns on them, roofs with different slants and made out of bricks or straw and windows of any shape and size on each, no appearance or combination repeated. The village was vaguely egg shaped and in its middle blankets and canopies had been put up, with people bustling between the houses. It looked as if a market was being held.

Tauriel glanced at Kíli briefly before walking towards it with a purpose, while Kíli was still busy taking in the sight. He quickly caught up to her and they approached the houses together. Only a few people were outside the circle of houses, most of them children playing by the river and a few people hanging up drying clothes between a pink and a green painted house. One older man was sitting on a rocking chair near one of the houses, a truly impressive collection of tiny braids tied in a bun on top of his head and cascading down from it and over his shoulders. He’d been smoking a pipe but he put it down as he saw the two wanderers approaching.

“Ah, strangers,” he greeted, making no move to get up.

He eyed them both, contemplating, and for a moment Kíli worried that the sword on his belt might mark them as dangerous in this man’s eyes. He didn’t linger on the visible weapon though, glancing over Kíli’s face and dishevelled hair and Tauriel’s elegant light dress. He apparently deemed them safe as he smiled widely.

“Are you here to join our little market, children?”

Kíli wanted to protest the use of that word but Tauriel nodded.

“If we may?”

The man took a drag from his pipe and nodded. Now some of the other people were looking over as well, briefly pausing in their work but not moving closer or actually interrupting what they’d been doing.

“Of course, the market is just for the people to exchange goods among each other, but who’s to say no for one or two young ones? The big markets are more interesting, but go along,” the man waved his pipe at the gap between his house and the one beside it, and Kíli and Tauriel stepped through.

For a moment Kíli wondered what the man had meant by ‘big market’, since it look as if every single inhabitant of the village had laid out something to sell. People were talking and moving around slowly, most of them busier chatting than actually bargaining for anything. Most of the things being sold were everyday objects. One man was sitting between several baskets full of brightly dyed wool, and joked with a woman who was picking out the colours she wanted. A few houses away from that one, an old woman sat before a display of nothing but hundreds of pretty carved spoons.

There were things that fascinated Kíli as well and seemed utterly strange. One woman had small bowls in front of her, the water inside appearing dark because of the dark stoneware. Something that looked a little like fishes but could also have been just shiny pebbles were swimming inside. There was one stand where knotted thread was sold, and it did not seem like the people bargaining for it were interested in the thread as such, picking based on the knots’ shapes.

Tauriel made no distinction between the strange and the ordinary. She pulled Kíli along, eager to take a look at anything. To her the mere concept of a market and being in one was new, so Kíli didn’t mind. Even the mundane seemed interesting, if Tauriel’s expression was anything to go by. 

The people of the village were friendly and open, more than willing to show off all they had, even if they did not wish to sell or after Kíli told them that he didn’t have anything good to give them back.

“Stay! We love meeting wanderers on our way,” one stall owner insisted as he dragged a bag of potatoes out of his house. “The nights are warm and you could sleep outside, we have pillows to trade. Be our guest for the night!”

The village children came back from playing and watched Kíli and Tauriel curiously but did not treat them with caution or disdain, as Kíli expected they might. They did show some interest in the material of Tauriel’s dress, some of them whispering and wondering where she might have gotten such nice material. Kíli’s England-made clothes and the nice sword at his side didn’t get any attention. Everyone ran in and out of any house and when the sun was starting to set the older children went out to shoo chickens back into small hut so they’d be safe. Several goats and mules and sheep remained beyond the circle of houses, peacefully grazing and not paying their owners any mind.

When the sky darkened and the first stars appeared the villagers put away their goods and a large bonfire was lit in the middle of their village. Kíli and Tauriel assisted some of the people by carrying pillows and blankets out of their small houses to place them around the fire. The dry wood of the town fire cracked and sprayed sparks up into the sky where the stars twinkled. Some of the older men got out instruments, and several women gathered their children round to prepare a giant pot of stew. Kíli and Tauriel were made to sit down and were handed stew served in hollow bread crust.

“It’s a gift!” the person handing out the bowls insisted when Kíli tried to offer something in return, and finally he relaxed.

He sat there with Tauriel and enjoyed the food they’d been served; whispering and laughing about the things they’d seen. It was comfortable just to sit on the soft pillows near the houses and watch as the music grew more cheerful and couples started dancing around the fires.

Kíli’s cheeks burned as it started but soon enough he realized that he didn’t feel as shy or uncomfortable as he’d been when there were dances like this in his home town. Nobody expected him to join in, and the people dancing did it just for this, the dance. He saw women with their multi-coloured skirts flaring up as they danced around the fires, men with belts and silk scarves tied around their waists as they joined in. Few stuck to only one dancing partner as they circled each other, but Kíli noticed some holding hands as they danced, smiling sweetly and singing together or dancing out of order. Nobody seemed to mind, the dance was wild and any semblance of structure was coincidental.

Some of the older couples sat down eventually, and the younger villagers giggled and held hands, darting out of the circle in groups, towards the direction of the river. Kíli was near tempted to join in as more and more of the young men and women of his age went to swim, but he had been _quite_ well acquainted with river today and was not pleased by the idea of getting wet again, especially since his leg was still tender. Besides, Tauriel was more entranced by the dances and he did not wish to leave her company right now.

The music grew less wild after a while, and Kíli’s eyes wandered to the other folk sitting and watching the dancers. Most drank from flasks of something sharp smelling which they handed around, some snacked on fruit, but mostly they were just relaxing.

At first he did not even notice the men, eyes slipping over them and drawn by the more colourful scarves of the people around them. Then Kíli realized that the couple sitting together were touching, one man with his arm gently curled around the other man’s shoulder, cheek resting against his hair. They looked like any other couple, affectionate and watching the musicians like the rest of the villagers. Nobody paid them any attention, apart from the times someone passed them a flask or a fruit bowl or leaned over to tell them a joke.

Kíli felt a shiver run over his skin, though the night was not cold.

“Kíli?”

He startled as Tauriel spoke to him, and slowly tore his eyes away to look at her.

“Is everything alright? You look worried, you’ve been staring wide-eyed for ages.”

“Yes, yes everything is-“

Kíli didn’t know how to explain. There were two lovers, both men, barely older than he and Ned. Together and happy, and nobody minded, nobody said a thing-

“Do you see those two men?” Kíli whispered, trying his best not to stare or even dare point. That would have been rude.

Tauriel took a moment to spot who he meant, and then nodded and looked at him expectantly, waiting for clarification.

“Is that fine by you?”

Again Tauriel glanced at the men, thinking.

“Yes. Why are you asking? Is there something wrong?”

Kíli shook his head and felt an enormous wave of relief.

“No, everything is fine.”

Tauriel was still watching him and Kíli knew he must be smiling too wide but he didn’t care. He really didn’t. The thing his father had told him of Arda must be true, at least in some places. He finished his meal and bumped shoulders with Tauriel, completely at ease with the world. Or nearly.

Kíli looked around carefully, making sure that nobody would overhear him.

“Tauriel…”

“Yes?”

“I want to tell you something. About my love. The one I wanted to find a star for.”

Tauriel’s eyes shone in the firelight as she listened to Kíli, and maybe it was the days of wandering and the wonderful evening, but he felt brave enough to share his secret. Why shouldn’t he? What could she even do?

“My love back at home is a man. He’s the best I know, and I really do hope to live with him one day, maybe in Arda or… somewhere. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Tauriel, who had started smiling encouragingly as he started speaking of his love, frowned a little.

“You did tell me? Didn’t you want to?”

“It’s… it’s not something you _do_ back at home. Being in love with a man, if you’re a man too. You... can get in pretty awful trouble for it, actually.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know… But it’s said to be bad thing so I could never tell anybody about it in England. So I wasn’t sure if this is fine by you.”

Tauriel’s hand covered Kíli’s, her long fingers squeezing slightly.

“It is fine by me,” she said. She looked a little uncertain about what he had told her, but her voice was certain. “I do hope you can return to your love soon.”

Kíli smiled at her, feeling immensely relieved that the star didn’t think him strange. That the star wished him well despite his fears and what he was.

“Thank you,” he said, and with their fingers still linked he looked up at the sky and smiled.


	19. Iron Allies

The old fortress was in ruins. The stones were as old as the mountains around them, but also frail in their less than perfect quality. Smaug could feel the soft echo of her heels hitting the weak stones, dulled by the dust and dirt. She would not have chosen such a place to dwell in, though it was hard to reach and well protected. Here and there she could also see rusted iron in the foundations, both as support and what once had been decoration. With some polishing everything would glitter, but it wasn’t as precious as gold, and why would one as magnificent as Smaug ever need to fall back on such a place?

Still, her allies did not share her interest in the gathering of gems and gold, so this place was more than enough for them. She could taste their presence in the air, any concerns about being slain gone as soon as Smaug had entered the path leading up to the ruins.

Orcs were nice allies to have. Most in their ranks weren’t even truly alive as far as Smaug could tell. There were beasts created from shadows and monsters spawning smaller but vicious soldiers and the creatures they rode to hunt their prey, all of them eager to fight. They did not share Smaug’s lust for gold, but they liked the fight, took pleasure in the chaos. Deep within the mountains they might have lived a nice and quiet life, but Smaug had only ever met those whose bloodthirst chased them up into the unforgiving light. They were good to work with, killing and clearing the places they wanted to ruin, and they were more than happy to let Smaug gather whatever she wanted. For that, she certainly didn’t mind assisting them against their foes and burning a path to wherever the Orcs wanted to go.

Nearly twenty years ago Smaug had an agreement with a tall commander of Orcs, roaming all over Arda and instilling more fear than ever before. It had been _glorious_ , Smaug had multiplied the gold in her hoard, and Azog and his Orcs had their fun as well. They had been so close to Erebor too, almost tasting the delicious overflow of energy of the Arkenstone, destroying a nasty little kingdom that had withheld its gold and treasure for too long. Who’d have known that the pesky little prince would actually manage to lead his own army to ruin Azog’s, to burn off the Orc’s hand and launch Smaug’s stone out of her reach. Nasty business, that, but now there was something just as nice within her reach.

Smaug’s dress whirled up the dust in tiny clouds as she finally found the place she’d been looking for. It must have been a great hall once, but the ceiling had collapsed centuries ago. She could see tiny eyes watching her from the shadows, too fearful to come out and face her. They knew who she was.

Good.

“Will you not welcome your old friend?” she called out into the darkness around her.

Her voice was low and resonated through the entire ruin, she knew, without being a shout. Smaug’s thin lips curled into a cruel smile when she heard his steps. Azog didn’t let her wait for long, appearing out of the shadows. He was taller than her current shape, symmetric scars cutting deep in his flesh and the crude sabre on his charred arm gleaming in the light, freshly sharpened.

“ _You come here after many years_ ,” Azog said in the dark tongue of his people, his milky blue eyes narrowing. Of course he would think that Smaug wanted something. Why else would a dragon turn into such a delicate form and wander into the ruins he dwelled in?

 

“ _Sleep is bothersome and I was missing our little companionship_ ,” Smaug replied, her voice making the eyes all around them retreat further into the shadows as she used their language.

“ _I have a new deal to make. Let us return to our roaming and power. Let us take what we want again, do as we please. I am here to tell you that we can return to this… and that I need to borrow your Orcs for a little task._ ”

Azog sneered, flashing his teeth in laughter. Smaug waited patiently, knowing that the little display was a common part of Orcs facing anyone smaller. Azog was so tiny compared to her true form, and he knew this, so there was no need to even be amused at the attempt to intimidate her. He wouldn’t be so stupid to truly challenge her.

“ _Our numbers have fallen, and you, firebeast, should sleep on your hoard. Why do you care for this again? Now of all times, when we’re already stronger than we were in the past seventeen years and raiding as we please?_ ”

“ _Why sleep if there’s so much gold left outside of my hoard,_ ” Smaug shot back, a little displeased about the mention of sleep. Miserable Orc, he had no right to imply that _she_ of all creatures was lazy. “ _I have a need to travel quickly but unseen. The people shouldn’t know that the dragon has returned, not before I have regained my strength at full. Let them be hit out of nowhere._ ”

She knew that Azog was interested now, as he looked her up and down, recognizing how she must look quite innocent to the people of Arda like this.

“ _What is it you want from us?_ ” he asked.

“ _I need hunters, a little company to help me hunt down a child to eat up. Alive, mind you, a star’s heart is no use cold and dead_.”

Again Azog laughed, this time at her expense and Smaug let her eyes flash red in a warning.

“ _A star? I don’t care for your little skyling hunt, ask someone else to assist you, worm_ ,” Azog shook his head and the laughter of his Orcs sounded from around them.

Smaug’s smile widened, lips parting to reveal sharp teeth.

“Do not laugh at Dragons, you tiny maggot,” she said, words coming out in a hiss. Behind her some of the younger and imprudent Orcs had edged closer, reaching for the rich material of her dress. Smaug didn’t even look as she let flames flare up close enough to singe their hands and they ran away with a fearful shriek.

Azog glared at them as Smaug stepped closer to him, still smiling in a way that might be sweet if her teeth didn’t gleam with razor-sharpness and smoke wasn’t escaping from the corners of her mouth.

“ _It is easy: you lend me the assistance I need to feast on my star, and I shall use my power for your gains immediately_ ,” her tiny hand reached up to pet the blade that replace Azog’s lost arm, suppressing the shudder at the feel of common iron of it “ _We can roam any land we wish. But how would you feel about burning Erebor to the ground and paying them back for this toy of yours_.”

There was a pause, the Orcs watching their leader and Azog seemingly frozen in place. Then the corners of his mouth twisted into a malicious smile.

“ _How many do you need_?”

*

Kíli was woken by the sound of an entire village waking up and hurrying around busily. He stretched and yawned on his pillows before opening his eyes, still a little confused and disoriented after the good night of sleep he’d had. It was still before dawn and despite the early hour and the night of celebrating the townspeople seemed fine with it.

Their offer to let the two wanderers sleep in the middle of their town with some pillows and blankets had been a kind one. The night had been warm and Kíli hadn’t slept so well in ages. Perhaps it was because he’d come clear to such a mythical being as Tauriel and had received nothing but sympathy and kindness in return.

The star has slept as well, despite muttering how she didn’t want to. Tauriel had eventually drifted off and now she was still curled into her pillows with her hair all over the place. She grunted when Kíli tried to wake her, not getting up until a young woman approached them with mismatched mugs and some steaming sweet-smelling brew inside.

“This will fill your stomach up until midday,” she told them and busied herself with her own cup.

They drank and Kíli watched the happenings around them. He would have assumed that the people were readying the town for another market day, but he noticed that everyone was carrying things back into the houses until nothing was left lying outside.

“Is something happening?” he asked the villager, unsure about what was going on.

“Oh yes, we will travel on further down the river today,” she replied and accepted the cups back when Kíli and Tauriel were done. “We wouldn’t want to leave anything behind.”

“Are you just leaving your home now?”

It surprised Kíli. He had just been thinking about how nice the houses were, and how much he would have liked living in this colourful, cheery place. The villager didn’t seem to understand the question, frowning a little.

“No, we’re never gone from home,” she just said, and then walked off to help clear the remains of the bonfire.

Like everyone else Kíli and Tauriel decided to pack up their things to ready themselves for another day of travel. An old lady offered to give them a few dried fruits and pastries in exchange for Kíli’s handkerchiefs, and then they were done.

“The river forks about a mile downstream, we will follow the right one,” everyone said when Kíli asked which direction would be best to travel.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked Tauriel when they were given their advice.

The star looked towards the river and shrugged.

“Left would take us further away from the forest and towards where big towns might be.”

They got out the crude map Beorn had drawn them and tried to make sense of it. A soft creaking from all around them startled them out of their concentration. For a moment neither was sure where the sound came from, but then Tauriel let out a soft “oh” and pointed at the nearest house.

For a moment Kíli thought it was going to break apart; the walls swayed and creaked harder, but then the house was _rising_. All around them the houses rose a few feet into the air, revealing wheels. Tauriel’s eyes were wide and she laughed at the unexpected sight, and Kíli’s mouth hung open.

“Your houses _move_?” Kíli asked loudly, not even sure who he was addressing.

Several people around them laughed, Tauriel as well.

“We travel through the fields and hold our markets near the smaller villages. Much easier than having them travel to us.”

Kíli walked around one of the houses as more and more started to rise on their wheels. Only now he realized that the houses had small benches on their sides, making them look like oddly shaped carriages. The animals that the people had let feed outside the village were still milling around, grazing, unperturbed by the houses.

“You have mule-pulled houses?”

“What? No of course not,” the nearest villager replied as she sat down on the bench of her house.

Before another question could be asked the houses creaked again, and just like that they started moving on their own. They started slowly at first, but gradually they sped up a little and picked up the pace of a horse. People leaned out of the windows and waved as they rolled past Kíli and Tauriel, who both waved back in surprise.

It only took a few minutes before the entire village and all their animals were tiny specks in the distance. The only traces left behind were small dents in the grass where their wheels had rested and some ash where the bonfire had been.

“That was amazing,” Tauriel said, though the fascination on her face didn’t match the utter dumbfounded surprise Kíli had felt at that sight.

“What _was_ that?” he whispered, trying to understand the wooden constructions that moved without any sign of a power source.

“Well…” Tauriel looked thoughtful for a moment, and Kíli expected she knew and would tell him. “If my eyes didn’t play a trick on me, I would say this was a moving village.”

Kíli stared at her for a moment before he groaned and she laughed again, touching his shoulder.

“Let us move onwards, my friend.”

They took one last look towards where the caravan had disappeared to, and turned towards the river, both quietly wondering what they might encounter next.

*

The fields and forests stretched out endlessly before them, mountains looming far off in the distance. Fíli’s mare nudged at his shoulder as he crouched on the ground, looking down on all of it. The steep cliffs and gentler paths down wouldn’t be hard to cross, but he wished he knew where exactly they should turn, just to save time in their crossing.

The shallow bowl before his knees made dull sounds as he drummed against its edge with his fingers, lost in thought. He’d thrown the runes every morning for five days now, ever since he’d set out from Erebor with his uncle the King giving him his blessing and wishing him luck. This endeavour was the most important task they’d ever trusted Fíli with, and he needed to do well. He _would_ do well, he would find the Arkenstone and return it to its rightful place.

The Durins would have real power again, magic to use and protect their people, magic to help them regain enough of their military strength to ensure peace for their allies as well. Thorin would not have to worry as much then, as Fíli hoped, and when it was time for Fíli to take the crown he would know that he was enough for his people.

Of course, there was a little part of him that hoped he could travel freely as well, once the lands were safe and they had the power to actually discourage, rather than weakly fight off the Orcs that treated their defences as a joke. Maybe he could search for his lost family then. Find his mother. Go to the very edges of Arda, to the places where one could cross into other worlds. There was still hope that he might one day see his father again as well.

Behind Fíli’s back his guards were still waiting patiently. They had kept their distance to let Fíli read the runes in peace earlier, but he knew they would be getting impatient soon. Usually he didn’t take as long to contemplate the meaning of what he had thrown. Usually it was easier with the general direction, but runes were never perfect and the Arkenstone would not want to be found easily either.

“Do we know where to go on to, my prince?” the head of his personal guard asked. She was frowning, still keeping her distance.

Fíli glanced at the runes one last time, then he gently gathered them up in their small leather bag and picked up the bowl as well.

“Yes, Imór. South and a little east. I’m sure we can keep that course for one or two days before we have to check again.”

She nodded curtly and then turned to give orders to the rest of the guard as Fíli climbed on his mare. No matter how many of his tools were useless in this, he would find the Arkenstone for Thorin, and he would return peace to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, I was busy with homework deadlines and fics that needed to get done before a certain date ;u; I'll try to update regularly again from now on


	20. Travels and Traps

The days passed peacefully as Kíli and Tauriel travelled through the lands, slowly turning into weeks. They didn’t encounter many people as they walked, but ever since they’d left Beorn’s they also hadn’t been in imminent danger. Every two or three days they came upon a village, a proper one with houses that didn’t move. Following the river and paths in the pretty fields, they were led from one to the next and steadily further north and west, and though few people ever had been to a larger town they were friendly and gave advice about the way.

Kíli always asked the villagers for the direction to the nearest large towns, but most people only shrugged and said they weren’t sure. Few cared for travelling, and if they did, they only went to the surrounding villages. Some said they were sure they’d met someone whose siblings ventured to the big towns more often; it was either siblings or cousins, or family so many times removed that Kíli couldn’t keep track. The villages were small, and few needed anything that their farms or the forests didn’t provide.

The people were usually more than happy to share what Kíli asked for, food and a place to sleep, for little in exchange. Usually they asked for help of some kind, in their household, on the farm or with metalwork, once Kíli admitted to know some of it. One particularly nice homeowner even taught them how to bake pie (with a fruit Kíli found quite similar to blackberries, though he promptly forgot the name of it), in exchange for them painting their fence.

Kíli liked those moments, but he almost preferred sleeping in the wild and just walking along with Tauriel and talking.

The star didn’t tell all that much about her life and her family, unsure of how to even explain something like that to a mortal. Kíli only pouted a _little_ when she said it would be difficult for him to understand, but when Tauriel started to tell her stories he decided that he preferred those anyway.

Stars watched what was happening below them, curious of the lives of those below. Tauriel had watched lives pass and stories unfold, people meet and go on adventures and do magic, and glorious battles that nobody even remembered anymore. She didn’t understand all of what had happened, since she could only watch, and usually only did so at night, but she had seen enough that she could spin the most beautiful of tales.

“I’m glad you fell on me that night,” she confessed one evening as they’d finished their dinner and watched their little fire burn low.

“You’re... glad I fell on you?” Kíli laughed in confusion. “I’d rather I hadn’t, it’s not very polite to drop out of the sky and land on pretty ladies.”

Tauriel snorted and shook her head, bumping his shoulder with hers. 

“Not like _that_ ,” she corrected, choosing to ignore the last part of his comment. “I meant...”

She paused to collect her thoughts for a moment.

“I’m glad I fell. Well, not that I _fell_. I’m glad I fell and met someone like you. You’re good person, and nice and fun to be around. I’ve watched terrible people when I was back home in the sky, and I’m thankful that I haven’t seen any of those up close. 

As she talked, he could see her pointed ears turn pink in the dim firelight, though her face did not betray her emotions. 

Kíli reached out and took her hand.

“I’m glad it’s you who fell too. Not that I wanted any star to fall! And I don’t know what stars are like usually, but I like you, so I’m glad I met you.”

For a moment he thought he’d said something wrong, but Tauriel smiled at him and squeezed his fingers. 

The fire crackled and Tauriel got up to add some firewood to it. Kíli rubbed his fingers together and thought of the warning of his dream and his promise to keep Tauriel safe. He didn’t know if he was a good person, or if he was remotely qualified to protect stars, but he would do his best to make sure nothing bad would ever happen to her. She was his friend now, and he knew she would do the same for him.

Tauriel winced slightly as she sat down again and rubbed her bare feet.

“Why must foot soles be so tender?” Tauriel complained and glared at them as if the pain was somehow their fault. The terrain of the day before had been rougher, and Kíli realized that he had not given any thought to her lack of shoes. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, concern and guilt in his voice.

“I never thought I’d need to? Shoes seemed silly but now I do regret not having any. Mentioning it wouldn’t have done much good considering that there are no shoes to be had in the wild anyway.”

“I can give you mine!”

Tauriel waved him off.

“Yours would be too large for me, wouldn’t they? We can ask if there’s anyone willing to sell us some in the next village we see?”

That seemed like the best solution and Kíli nodded, though he still felt guilty for not realizing on his own. They watched the fire burn down for a while, and then curled up to sleep.

 

*

Smaug stretched out in the coach’s seats. She’d slept curled up tight with her dress cushioning her, pleased about how her plans had unfolded. The Orcs had found the giant warhorses, seldom used when Wargs were there for the simple soldiers to use, and a coach that was big, dangerous looking and dull black under a layer of dust. Perfect for Smaug. Why ride on smelly beasts she might otherwise consider for dinner if she could travel comfortably as a mortal lady might?

At night they rode, the few Orcs Smaug had handpicked out of a nervous mass sitting on the chariot’s roof or riding a bit behind on their Wargs. The group was small enough to not draw any sort of attention of the pitiful attempts the mortals made to keep their lands safe. The group did not raid anything; they were obedient and they simply followed Smaug’s lead, moving quickly (though she ignored their foul cursing and complaints. She knew Orcs did not come with manners).

There was nothing to see outside but forests, and in fear of the dragon’s wrath the Orcs didn’t even dare approach the villages they skirted. As much as Smaug might be amused about burning down such a place, no matter how small it was, a fire of that kind would alert others, and she would not risk leading anyone to her star. Even in her shape the Orcs feared her enough to obey her with none of their leaders around. During the day they hid under trees and the Orcs rested under the chariots shadow as Smaug smelled the air and searched for traces of her prey.

Soon they would find the star. Soon she would feast.

The coach slowed and stopped shortly after she was woken from her slumber, and the rough language of the Orcs filled the air. Smaug opened the door and gracefully stepped out, gathering her skirts around her. The thing that had caused the Orcs to stop was evident immediately.

A building stood in the middle of a large clearing, old and abandoned, grass already growing on the roads around it. Once it must have been a nice inn for weary wanderers to rest or the villagers living nearby to gather. Broken wind chimes hung in the dusty windows and towers rose up into the air, possibly a messenger station for creatures or machines of flight. It was a rundown place, and just perfect for Smaug.

“The star will come upon this place,” she told the Orcs, though they really didn’t need to know all her plans. “Let it have a warm welcome, stars are of the most use when they are calm and comfortable.”

Not that the Orcs knew (or cared) much about that. Smaug raised her arms into the air, focusing on the image she wished to create. The inn burst up in flames for a moment, the wood creaking in protest before it twisted and straightened. The Orcs moved away from the dragon’s magic and watched as the building returned to a beautiful shape, looking just as if it was still lived in and ready to welcome wanderers. Then Smaug turned her long claws at the Orcs, and though they shrieked in fear there was little choice for them but to obey. Within seconds the group of fierce warriors was replaced by shy and small human girls, dressed in simple but pretty dresses, unremarkable and inconspicuous.

“There,” Smaug said with a satisfied smile. “Make sure to be kind and quiet, and don’t speak a word.”

The girls glanced at each other, then bowed awkwardly and scurried into the house, posture slouched and feet shuffling, and though Smaug considered it likely that they might raise suspicion, she did not plan to fool people for long. She sighed and her glance fell on her hands. Her nails had twisted into sharp claws and the brown of her skin had split to reveal the suggestion of glowing golden scales. Smaug snarled at her own hands and forced her magic to fix that little slip, along with her gorgeous dress, to her reluctance. Her hands stung and the energy she forced through her veins to repair the damage hissed slightly, like water sprayed on hot coals.

‘ _It is just as well that I did not have to create an inn from scratch_ ’, she thought to herself.

The signs of her true nature disappeared, and Smaug stood there in a dress made out of simple embroidered cotton. Even now she looked magnificent, but anyone who saw her would take her for the innkeeper.

Smaug stretched and looked into the direction in which she could sense the star. Soon now it would come to her, seeking a place to rest. And Smaug would be ready to welcome her with a warm bed and sharp teeth to devour its heart. She smiled again, and turned to enter the house to oversee the preparations.


	21. Interlude: The Pleasures Of Pretty Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief, not entirely plotrelevant Wind Dancer interlude. The rating has gone up too

The Wind Dancer’s sails crackled in the changing wind as Dwalin ordered to change the course yet again. The sharp turn tilted the deck a little, and every crewmember on board shifted their weight to counter the motion.

Nori stood at the very rail, leaning over it slightly with one hand on the ropes. The Wind Dancer’s storm catching net was unfolded in a large circle all around the ship, the edges of both sides curling towards each other with only a few feet between each other. Nori watched their movement carefully; paying attention to how they moved with the wind and the ship’s constant turns and twists. Summer storms were always energy rich and provided the Wind Dancer with a full load of fresh lightning, but it was no use hunting for storms when the nets didn’t work properly.

“Flexible and sturdy,” Nori commented on the view, not turning to Dwalin as he watched for signs of wear or damage. “I would say there’s no need in a premature substitute.”

Dwalin grunted his approval. The Wind Dancer always got repairs and replacements before anything serious could come up, but none of them liked wasting time on it more than was necessary.

Nori leaned forward some more, the tips of his boots barely brushing the planks, and shielded his eyes against the sun. It was hard to see against the blue sky, but even now tiny charges glimmered at some of the cables. Not enough to even try tapping onto it, but the flickering energy showed where potential problems in the cables were located. Looking down, it was easier to spot them, against the background of miles upon miles of empty space below.

A heavy hand landed on Nori’s shoulder and pulled him back from his examination. Nori glanced up to see Dwalin’s disapproving face, but the captain didn’t comment on it.

“I think there’s a gap somewhere on the starboard net,” he let Dwalin know.

The captain followed his gaze but didn’t lean closer.

“Big enough to let it fail?”

“Might be. Wouldn’t risk it.”

Nori glanced down where Bofur and Bifur were working on maintaining the generators connected to the nets. Each lightning strike would run down the nets and into the machines, and from there into the capacitors to be stored and sold. They seemed nearly done with their checks by now, so the nets could be seen to.

“Bofur,” Nori called down, waving towards the net, “there’s a gap, see to that.”

The mechanic nodded cheerfully and got up to walk towards where the offending hole had been spotted. Putting on the gear to climb beyond the ship’s rail was put on quickly, the ropes connected one of the stabilizing climbing cables on the nets hooked to Bofur’s gear and then he was already climbing over the rail. He took one step but paused to take off his hat to hand it over to Bifur, who had gotten up to watch.

Nori stood to watch Bofur’s skilful climb along the ropes, hands and feet balancing him and making sure that his safety ropes didn’t tangle anywhere. He didn’t lose balance even once until he reached the place where the net was showing sign of malfunctioning, where he stopped and fished his tools out of his many pockets. Each of them was tied to a little string so he couldn’t drop them into the abyss below, but Bofur didn’t let go of them anyway. It took him a few minutes to make sure everything was in order.

He returned to deck and gracefully took his hat back from his cousin before he bowed theatrically. Only Nori and the captain had watched though; it wasn’t every day that somebody had to climb off deck to fix things, but it wasn’t really unusual either.

Nori turned to Dwalin with a grin.

“The next storm hunt is saved,” he announced and Dwalin’s lips twitched into a smile. He rarely was anything but completely serious when checking and preparing the Wind Dancer for a task, so Nori enjoyed the small victory.

“There’s still much to do,” Dwalin reminded him, and Nori gave him a mocking salute before returning to his tasks.

*

The moon was already above the ship when Nori finally closed the door to his small chamber behind him and leaned against it with a sigh. The work that needed to be done to prepare for the storms was familiar routine, but it meant carrying and rolling a lot of heavy equipment back and forth, securing things, and checking on the heavy gear and the nets; generally, there was little time for breaks.

His first opportunity to rest properly had been when Bombur prepared dinner and everyone just dropped to eat where they had been working. Afterwards, Nori had taken advantage of Dwalin’s empty quarters to make use of the small bath chamber. It had a tub which Nori was sure Dwalin was too big to fit in comfortable; Nori appreciated the peace and quiet as he quickly washed himself with warm water from buckets.

Dwalin kept a box of soaps, both simples ones he used himself and prettier scented ones Nori was sure had been a gift from someone’s family. The soaps had ended up in the captain’s quarters, unused. As always when he could, Nori took the time to indulge, using several of the nice smelling ones along with the simpler ones. He washed his hair and briefly considered just preparing a bath. But Dwalin would return soon and even as he towelled himself off Nori felt the soreness of his muscles.

When he was done Nori wrapped a towel around his waist, gathered his clothes and quickly moved to his own chamber. It was warmer there; most of the ship’s rooms had lamps or more or less efficient charms to keep the altitude’s cold at bay, and Nori never had liked the cold.

His eyes moved over what little furniture he had, as he debated what he wanted to do. The day had been long and he didn’t want to do anything too difficult. There was some parchment on the table, and he thought he might try and scrawl out a letter for his sisters. But he’d been so focused all day, and the next opportunity to send a letter wouldn’t arise in a long time. No need to try now.

Nori looked at the small cabinet he’d put up years ago. He hid his best clothes in it…

Yes, he deserved a little relaxing now.

He dropped his clothes on the floor and kicked them under the bed, just out of his sight for now. The cabinet’s doors didn’t creak as he opened them carefully, taking a look inside. Apart from one beautiful coat, all those clothes were his own and ordinary garments he could wear whenever he walked outside his room. The coat as well, sometimes. It was a pretty dark red fur and Dwalin had dug it out of storage a few years ago when Nori had nearly frozen himself sick on a night shift. He’d kept it, since it was warm enough and nobody else ever had any use for it.

What Nori wanted now was hidden in the old boxes securely tied with old cord. He always knotted them well and in patterns to see if anyone had tampered with them, but of course nobody ever did. Nori’s towel joined the rest of the clothes under the bed and he leaned closer to the shelf, thinking of what he wanted.

They weren’t marked, but Nori knew which box contained what. Now he felt like a loose but pretty nightgown, so he choose one in a light white cotton. When he put it on it hung off his shoulders, all of the material soft against his skin. It only went to his knees and had buttons all the way down, which Nori left open now.

After another moment of consideration he also plucked the coat off its hanger and draped it about his shoulders. It was too big for him, but Nori had never owned such a luxurious coat before, and the feel of the fur was perfect for when he was relaxed.

Nori hummed quietly to himself as he stroked his hands around the soft fur and settled on his bed. The many blankets he carefully stacked on it made it soft and warm just as Nori preferred, and with a little arranging he made himself comfortable, the coat around his shoulders and pillowed under his head. He stretched, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles. It was easy to relax, for he was familiar with every sensation: the comforting dimness of the room, the feeling of his own bed under him, his own clothes against his skin and no danger of discovery, and the familiar feeling of fatigue after a familiar workday on the ship that was his home. Ten years ago he’d wandered and slept where he could, never a familiar thing around him but the clothes he wore and one light bag over his shoulder.

Now he had comfort which was earned through hard work, and he could feel completely safe and relaxed within seconds. Now he could indulge.

Still humming to himself, Nori stroked his hands down over his chest, gently and slowly as his body warmed up. He let one hand move lower still, until his fingers pushed aside his nightgown and reached his thighs. 

_Why not indulge completely?_

The tiniest gasp escaped Nori’s mouth when he finally stroked over his stiffening cock and his hips arched into his touch. He liked to take it slow and gentle when he had the time for it. Not the quick satisfaction of a simple wank when he was too tired or not in the mood for the furs and the soft pretty clothes. He was warm and clean and perfect and only a fuck was better than this.

Sometimes Nori had thought about it. He had wondered about just going and finding himself someone at any old port, a mutually beneficial experience before he moved on with the ship. But Nori would think better of it each time; there was no point in seeking a fuck if he couldn’t enjoy _everything_ he wanted from shared passion, and what he wanted could not be found with strangers. Nori enjoyed rough bedsport, but he also craved the gentleness and affection of a proper lover, trustworthy and tender.

He ran his nails over his stomach and chest, feeling them rise and fall with his quickened breathing. He imagined that he was twitching under rough calloused hands, gentle as they worked him up to pleasure. He imagined that the hand on his cock and the one on his chest weren’t his own but belonged to someone big and strong and loving; he could almost feel soft lips moving over his face, the scratch of beard against tender skin…

He could almost hear it, the low voice rumbling through him, ‘ _I love you Nori, I love you_ ’, as if it was real, as if he had somebody to hold him close, and it was _perfect_.

Nori barely realized how close he was to finishing before he spilled over his hand with a quiet groan, the imagined hands lingering on his skin.

He took a few moments to calm down again, breathing evenly and basking in the afterglow. It was warm enough in his room that he didn’t have to put on warmer sleepwear or wrap himself in the blankets, so Nori reached under the bed for his towel and cleaned himself off. The towel returned to its place under the bed and out of Nori’s mind, and he let himself sink back against the furs, already growing sleepy.

He was relaxed and safe and satiated and _home_. Nori smiled as he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him.


	22. Almost Homesick

The next village Kíli and Tauriel reached had a cobbler, and they grinned at one another in their good luck. This village was larger than the ones they’d visited, and the locals described the way to the cobbler’s house by actually referring to streets rather than odd landmarks.

The cobbler was a little surprised when Tauriel admitted that she’d never worn any kind of shoe in her life, so she had no idea what she needed. Kíli only asked for boots that were comfortable enough to walk in, since the roads weren’t always the best. He offered to pay with the trinkets he still had from home, or with the coins his father had given him as well.

“You can’t barter with these things everywhere,” the cobbler explained as he checked Kíli’s coins and found them suitable.

“So we will need more coins when we reach the bigger towns?” Kíli asked, already wondering where they would obtain money. It seemed that some forms of tedious business were found anywhere, magic or not.

“The things you have there are just trinkets. Pretty, but with no magic in them.”

The cobbler showed the two a softly tinkling wind chime hanging above his window, which let out tiny sparks every once in a while.

“Like that. This one wards off unwelcome guests.”

The man and Tauriel laughed together, though Kíli wasn’t sure what to think of that. Magic seemed so commonplace here that he couldn’t spot it unless he was told what to look for. 

‘ _Perhaps there are different kinds of magic here_ ’ he thought. ‘ _Normal magic, like weather predictions or something to help with your business, and then there is big magic like… skinchangers? If that’s even actual magic, maybe it’s just strange._ ’ 

The man measured Tauriel’s foot and then sent the two off, muttering something about not liking to be disturbed when he worked. There wasn’t a place they could really go to, so they sat down on a bench at the back of the cobbler’s house. It was opposite another house’s garden, so the view was pretty at least.

They sat quietly for a while, eating apples from Kíli’s bag to pass the time and watching a few sparrows jump around on one of the bushes of the garden, fighting over crumbs and chirping. After a while a big tabby with stripes that seemed purple in the sunlight trotted by and the birds scattered, but the cat paid them no mind and disappeared through an open window. The sparrows returned once it was gone, their chirping sounding offended now.

“Was your hometown like this?,” Tauriel asked, turning away from the sight to watch Kíli instead.

"It's...surprisingly similar, for all that we didn't have purple cats and magic wind chimes," he replied with a chuckle, and she hummed thoughtfully.

Suddenly she asked "Is Ned the only reason you crossed the wall?"

He blinked, a confused smile tugging at his lips. She noticed that his chin was dusted with a light stubble now, as he had no way to shave since falling into Arda.

"I mean," she clarified, "he must be something really special for you to go on a _quest_ for him. Have you felt like that before?"

Kíli smiled at the thought of Ned. He’d thought of him every evening, and when he and Tauriel were just walking along without talking for the time being. He would find something for him, something perfect and beautiful and they would live in Arda, together.

“No,” he admitted. “I had fancies before, but it was never more than child’s stuff, when we would still be young enough to pick flowers and when the girls in town would graciously allow you to kiss them on the cheek.”

Tauriel laughed as Kíli described the silly things his friends had done to impress girls, and how his other friends would tease from the side. He had participated far less frequently, but he'd still done his fair share of silly tricks, once even demonstrating his archery when he was cocky but still new to it. Once he had proved he could shoot apples off the fence, he had boasted of his ability to shoot objects from the air, and that claim has quickly been disproven, much to his embarrassment.

“Were you never in love with a girl?” Tauriel asked curiously. “After you grew up and giving flowers or kissing cheeks was too silly?”

Kíli shrugged.

“I don’t know… no.”

His cheeks grew hot as he thought of the way his friends had spoken of love, the way they boasted of kissing and fumbling, the boldest of them even mentioning getting frisky with his sweetheart while her father wasn't home, and never speaking to her again after in fear of getting in trouble with her father after all.

“My friends always talked about being in love with girls, and though I liked a few it was never like how _they_ said it is. So it must not have been a real attraction.”

He’d never wanted to grope in dark corners with an apple-cheeked lass, much less get into the bedroom of one, and the thought of marrying and then having children…

The thought made him uncomfortable yet again, so Kíli shook his head and gave Tauriel a crooked grin.

“Besides, I make a fool of myself in front of girls, so it’s for everyone’s good that I don’t show interest in them.”

Tauriel raised one of her eyebrows.

“I am a girl and you’re not acting weird, are you now?”

Kíli opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. While she was the most unique woman Kili had ever met, she was also, he supposed, not _too_ dissimilar from a woman that he might meet back home. He caught himself imagining her in all the finery of an English courtly lady; he could picture nothing less on her. If Kíli had met her back in England only her ears would have thrown him off.

“But you’re a star,” he tried, though he doubted that this was a suitable explanation. 

"Maybe I would have acted differently back home," he wondered. "But we didn't meet there, and you're...Tauriel. You're a _star_ , and you're also my friend. So...thanks? For being you."

Tauriel grinned and they watched the birds for a while.

“Are you expected to marry in England?” she asked when Kíli wasn’t expecting her to speak anymore.

“I think so. The girls would talk about marrying someone nice someday, the boys not so much. But I think we all kind of expect it to happen.”

“So this is what you’ll do after you bring a present to your love? You’ll bring him to Arda and marry him here?”

Kíli had to think about that for a moment. Marriage had always been something vaguely unsettling to him. Sharing a house and a bed with someone he loved sounded rather nice, but the thought of having to sleep (to put it delicately) with somebody he didn’t quite love made him queasy, the thought of being expected to sire children even more so. Marrying Ned had been out of the question in England, so he had never considered it.

“I think so,” he said, trying to imagine what marriage would be like.

“Do you know what you want to do in Arda? I confess that I preferred observing battles than weddings,” Tauriel asked again, and Kíli shrugged.

“I just want to be happy with him,” he said.

“And the gift? Is that custom in England? What will _he_ do for you to be together?”

Kíli wasn’t sure what she meant.

“There’s no custom like that. I promised Ned to bring him a star to show that I’m no longer a little boy and that I’m worthy. I wanted to show him that we can go to Arda and be happy.”

Tauriel frowned.

“But what has he done to show that _he_ is no longer a boy and worthy of you?”

Again the question seemed to not make any sense.

“He _is_ grown up and older than me, there’s no need to prove anything in his case.”

Tauriel didn’t look convinced and they were quiet for a few moments, neither sure what to say. Finally Kíli sighed and got up.

“Lets walk around town for a bit?”

They both walked for a while until Tauriel decided that she wanted to check out a pub in the middle of the town. There were only few people gambling and eating, and Kíli decided that he could certainly spare the coins for a warm meal. Tauriel refused that, saying that what little she had eaten today was enough. Instead she asked for wine.

The landlord brought a bowl of rabbit stew with a wedge of bread and a cup of a strange bright green liquid. It had an orange iridescence on it, but as Kíli cautiously tried it, it tasted of cherries and he decided it was excellent. The food itself was exactly like it was like in England, and Kíli felt a pang of homesickness in his chest. To distract himself he glanced around the room where people were playing cards or arm wrestling. Some looked back at first, but in the end chose to ignore the two strangers passing through.

Tauriel drank the wine though Kíli had assumed she wouldn’t like it.

“You should be careful with that,” he told her “Too much and you might start acting ridiculous. I've seen people deep in their cups dance on tables only to tumble off and fall asleep where they land.”

She smirked and drank another gulp.

“I heard of those among us who visited Arda and returned in their own power. Some of them grew very fond of this wine and I wanted to see what all the fuss is about. Frankly, I don’t see it.”

Tauriel drank anyway and Kíli shook his head but let her.

Eventually the card game ended and those who had been playing got up to watch the other game or to order another drink. One older woman with her hair tied in greying twists approached Kíli and Tauriel and sat down on a chair beside them.

“It’s been a while since anyone wandered past here,” she said, looking from one to the other. She didn’t seem unkind in her manners, not sitting too close to either of them and smiling a little.

“Usually it’s quiet at this time of year. Used to be different but now summer is quiet.”

“We’re new to this region,” Tauriel simply answer her, “and we are looking for bigger towns.”

The woman laughed.

“There’s nothing interesting in our part of the lands,” she agreed. Kíli thought of the moving village and absentmindedly realised that his drink was now a bright yellow, but it must not be uninteresting to those who lived with such things all their lives.

“Used to be different,” she said again. “But when there were more launching towers it was _those_ that everyone went to, not our little town.”

“Launching towers?” Kíli put away his now empty plate and watched the woman. There was so much he didn’t know of Arda yet, and it was always nice to have locals explain.

“When I was young they would fly from point to point on gliders. Pretty things, shaped like giant wooden birds and they would shine in the sun. Mostly used for messages and sometimes just for fun, and there were big inns next to the towers. Everyone liked to go there from the surrounding towns, and wanderers were always welcome.”

“What happened to the towers?” Tauriel asked, her eyes shining at the mention of flight.

The woman shook her head, a little wistfully.

“The gliding flight doesn’t make much sense in this region anymore. It never was the safest thing and they could only fly short distances. No match for storms and they weren’t getting much use after a while. There used to be a launching tower not too far away from this place. I doubt the inn is even still standing, but many years ago everyone would have recommended it.”

The arm wrestling match a few tables further grew louder and bets were placed as the participants grunted and groaned at the exertion. The three turned to watch for a moment, until one of the spectating men waved at them.

“Hey you wanderers. ‘S any of you interested in joining?”

Kíli grinned but shook his head, not quite in the mood to test his strength against someone whose biceps were thicker than his thighs But Tauriel finished her drink and got up.

“Of course! What are the rules?”

She slipped away to join the group before Kíli could hold her back. He watched as Tauriel was told what to do and how to play fairly, and how she was handed another cup of wine as a welcoming gift. There was nothing he could do to stop her from participating in the game, so Kili moved to watch and act as moral support. He needed be there if she got hurt. To his surprise she only took a moment to adjust to the strange position as somebody took her hand for a match, before twisting and pushing his hand to the table-top.

There was cheering for her as she managed this, some claiming that it must have been beginner’s luck, others promptly placing a bet on her. Kíli stood by and watched in fascination as Tauriel beat the men and women challenging her easily, laughing and struggling with some, but eventually defeating each.

As the afternoon went on the others bought Tauriel and Kíli drinks to make them stay longer, and Tauriel earned coins from the bets she won. Finally she had no more challengers, and she got up with a victorious smile.

“Where did you get all that strength from, pretty little thing like you?” her final opponent asked after the match ended.. She was a broad shouldered farmer from what Kíli had gathered during the game, and he could understand what she meant. While Tauriel wasn’t short, she was elegant, smooth lines and slight curves rather than the bulk of muscle. Tauriel smiled apologetically at the starry-eyed woman.

"I don't think my answer would make sense, even if I did tell you.".

They excused themselves and bid farewell to the laughing people before walking back outside. The sun was only now starting to sink; it was still just the afternoon and time to collect Tauriel’s boots. She must have drank at least five cups of wine, but Tauriel didn’t look drunk or even tipsy. Her cheeks and the tips of her pointy ears were red, but from the way she was still smiling Kíli suspected that it might just have been the excitement of testing her strength.

The cobbler had done good work with simple boots; they were of a lovely red-brown leather, light but sturdy, and reached nearly to Tauriel's knees. Kíli thanked and paid him and then they were on their way again.

As soon as they were out of the town Tauriel turned to Kíli and handed him a small pouch of coins.

“My winnings,” she explained “That’s more than enough to pay back for the shoes and the meal.”

“You don’t have to!” Kíli protested immediately, as Tauriel wouldn’t pull her hand away. “It was a present and _you_ won the money.”

“And I have little idea of how exactly it’s to be used. Besides, we’re together all the time and I have nowhere to carry it safely. You have your bag.”

It seemed reasonable, though as Kili accepted the purse he couldn't help feeling disappointed that the boots were no longer a present. After that they simply walked on, Tauriel happy with the protection the boots provided and perhaps a _bit _tipsy after all. She began to hum, a smile widening beneath her slightly flushed cheeks. It wore off after a few hours of walking but her good mood remained.__

__The sun disappeared behind the treetops and the sky gradually turned red and orange.. As they hadn’t walked too much that day neither felt tired, but Kíli thought that it would be best to rest anyway. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to walk the forest at night again._ _

__“There’s a light ahead,” Tauriel said after a while, and Kíli squinted but couldn’t see anything._ _

__“There, between the trees, where the road leads,” Tauriel pointed ahead._ _

__Still Kíli wasn’t sure whether there was anything, but he could smell smoke a little way off. There was a house somewhere close by._ _

__It didn’t take long to reach a larger clearing with several roads leading in various directions. In the middle of it stood a large house, with a high roof and an old wooden tower rising above it. There were stables, and a cozy light shone through the windows. A sign with crossed forks under a pint hung over the door. The house must have been painted in red and brown, and it looked as if the entire thing was glowing in the last of the setting sun.  
Kili stumbled as his foot caught on something on the ground. As he steadied himself, he saw it was an old sign. The wood was old and scratched and the paint faded from the weather, but he and Tauriel squinted at it to try and make sense of it. From what they could make out in the dim light, it was a painting of a strange contraption with a happy couple seated inside it, and above it, the words "wondrous flying Eagles, see Arda from the Air."_ _

__“I think it’s the inn the townspeople spoke of,” Kíli said, looking up towards the tower._ _

__Tauriel looked excited at the discovery._ _

__“We can walk in and ask if they have a free room for us! I’ve never slept in a bed before, or spend the night inside a proper house like this.”_ _

__“But wasn’t it supposed to be ...I don't know, abandoned??”_ _

__Kíli looked backin the direction of the town, miles away by now.. The road wasn’t as well used as some of the others leading away from the inn, so maybe the townspeople simply never went there anymore._ _

__Tauriel shrugged and gave him an expectant look. There was no real reason not to go, Kíli was certain that he had enough coin to pay for all they’d need. He did want to show Tauriel how rooms looked normally, when they didn’t belong to bears who shared their house with other animals. And proper dinner, and breakfast and generally things one could find in a house. The inn looked very nice as well._ _

__“Lets go then,” Kíli said and together they walked towards the tall red door._ _


	23. A Not-So-Abandoned Inn

Tauriel had never seen such a large building from the inside. The inn was spacious and comfortably warm, there were tables set near the entrance, much like in the pub she had seen earlier that day, but she could see more around the corner behind some beams. There was a counter further away against the wall, and two staircases on both sides of the hall, leading up to the second or third storey.

For a moment she thought that the place must be empty, as there were no patrons there, before Tauriel noticed the slight girls. They were wearing simple and neat dresses that matched in style, their hair pulled back with simple ribbons. They were quite inconspicuous, two sitting opposite one another at a table, bowed over some multi-coloured pebbles in a game, and another girl stood half hidden by one of the beams. All three looked up with nervous expectation, watching Kíli and Tauriel without saying a word, the one behind the beam clutching her broom as if she wished to hide behind that as well.

Tauriel didn’t know how to make them less nervous; she glanced at the sword at Kíli’s hip and wondered if putting it away might reassure the girls that they were simple travellers. Before either of them could do more than smile or hear any of the girls speak a voice made them all turn.

“Oh what wonder, my little mice, we have _guests_!”

A woman came down the stairs furthest away from the two, one hand on the rail, the other on her apron as she dried it off. She was wearing a maroon dress with skirts billowing more than Tauriel had ever seen, and the fabric adorned with red and black lace ribbons that matched the ones in her long red hair. Everything around her bounced cheerfully as she walked, from her skirts to the artfully tied curls atop her head.

‘ _She must be the owner of this inn_ , Tauriel thought, ‘ _her dress and hair even suit the colours of this place._ ’

Finally the woman reached them, her cheeks dimpling as she smiled at Tauriel.

“Welcome to my homely inn, my child,” she said, eyes shining. “I haven’t expected guests at this hour, you must excuse my little mice, they weren’t expecting either.”

The woman turned to the girls, who were still watching the scene, and waved at them with one elegant hand. The girls immediately melted from their tense stance, two hurrying towards the counter and a door behind it, the other gathering up the pebbles and running up the stairs. Once they were gone the woman turned back to smile at Tauriel, her eyes emitting sympathy. Her eyes flicked to Kíli once, but her attention returned to Tauriel right away.

“You must be tired from your journey,” she said, looking Tauriel up and down and taking note of her traveling gear. “It must have been quite a way, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Tauriel agreed, and she couldn’t help but smile back at the innkeeper. 

There was warmth in the woman’s smile.

“Do you wish to spend the night here?” she asked and Tauriel nodded. “Then I suppose a hot bath and some rest are in order while my girls prepare dinner.”

Tauriel had only ever heard of hot baths from Kíli, who would wistfully mention their wonderful features as he shivered in the icy cold of the rivers they washed at. He had claimed to feel sorry for Tauriel for what she had to put up with on the ground, and promised her a proper bath at the first inn they came to. She hadn’t minded the cold and the need to make do with rivers for washing, but she was not going to pass up the opportunity of a bath when one presented itself.

She nodded and the innkeeper’s warm hand placed itself gently on her elbow to lead her away.

“Can we put our things away first?” Kíli asked, stepping closer to stand beside Tauriel. His hand moved to where he kept his purse of real coins. “And how much do we pay you for the night?”

The innkeeper glanced at him, her smile turning a little stiff.

“You can, and luckily for you we have two rooms available. I’m sure you’ll be wanting to bathe separately. Unless you were expecting otherwise?”

Kíli’s face turned red at that and he quickly shook his head, though Tauriel wasn’t sure whether she’d mind sharing a room. Perhaps not _while_ she was taking a bath, as she suspected Kíli’s face would turn a permanent shade of tomato red at the suggestion.

“Then my girls will prepare you another room now. We can discuss the payment later, but it won’t be much with how few guests I’m having now.”

The girls reappeared, quietly leading Kíli up the stairs as he glanced back at Tauriel with a slightly worried face. She waved at him, hoping to be reassuring.

“Come along child,” the innkeeper said, gently leading Tauriel by the elbow.

They walked up the stairs the woman had descended to greet them, towards a corridor with several doors. There was a tiny table with a lamp set upon it, which the innkeeper picked up before opening one of the doors and walking inside.

It was a pretty room, light brown curtains before the windows and around the big four poster bed. There was a table with some flowers on it, and Tauriel thought that the blankets and pillows on the bed looked as soft and nice as a cloud.

The innkeeper lit several more lamps around the room, making the place look that much more comfortable and welcoming. Though Tauriel did not need lamps to see by (as a star she watched the world at night and could see quite well in the dark even down on the ground), the room appeared different by candlelight. She noticed the room’s smaller details, like a strange pan lying in the fireplace, the big tub mostly obscured by the bed’s curtains, and the pretty carvings on the walls, making out patterns of mountains and clouds.

Two girls passed into the room behind Tauriel, near soundlessly. They weren’t the same ones Tauriel had already seen, but they looked as if they were sisters at least, and each was carrying two heavy buckets of hot water.

“Let me help you get out of these clothes, child,” the innkeeper said, distracting Tauriel from the sight of the girls filling the tub with water and then hurrying out again.

Her warm hands gently helped Tauriel get out of the first layer of her dress, easily tangled through it was comfortable to wear and very light. The innkeeper made an appreciative sound as she carefully laid out the dress over a chair.

“A very beautiful material for a beautiful lady,” she commented, making Tauriel smile.

“Thank you,” she said as the woman already turned to help her out of her shift.

The girls returned and filled the tub again as Tauriel took off her boots and undergarments. They hurried out and closed the door behind them, leaving Tauriel to wonder how she was supposed to feel now that she was so exposed. She’d never been fully naked in front of anyone before, and it was a strange feeling. The woman didn’t seem to care though and only guided Tauriel towards the tub.

“Careful now,” she advised. “The water really is quite hot.”

Tauriel carefully dipped her toe into the water, forcing herself not to pull away from the temperature on instinct. The water was very hot and made her toes twitch, but it wasn’t painfully so. It took a few moments to adjust to the temperature and climb into the tub, but once Tauriel was fully seated in the hot water it simply felt blissful and relaxing.

She let out a sigh and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the heat and the scents of something flowery as the woman poured something into the water.

“This will help you relax,” she said as Tauriel cracked open an eye to watch her. “Besides, it softens skin and smells wonderful at that.”

Tauriel made herself as comfortable as she could in the tub, discovering that she could rest her neck against the edge and float a little in the water. It felt better than what Kíli had described, so completely peaceful and soothing. The woman was humming as she walked about the room, the gentle creak of the wooden floor a pleasant sound. Tauriel could see bright spots shift around through her closed eyelids as the woman hung up the rooms lamps on hooks for the purpose.

She offered to wash Tauriel’s hair as well, and though Tauriel was sure she didn’t need it she agreed. Even if a star did not need the same level of grooming a mortal did, the feeling of fingers gently rubbing oils against her scalp and brushing out her hair were luxurious enough for Tauriel to love it immediately. The woman took care with any tangles and around Tauriel’s pointy ears as she ran a comb through the hair, and then put it up in a simple loose braid to keep it from falling into the water again.

After a while the woman handed Tauriel a warm washcloth. It was nice to use it, as it was soft and had a little soap on it. As Tauriel washed herself with it, enjoying the feeling, the woman made a sound of sympathy.

“Oh you poor thing, your feet look quite roughened up. Did you walk on sharp rocks?”

“I didn’t have boots for most of my travelling,” Tauriel admitted, a little sheepish.

The woman nodded and smiled again.

“I have a wonderful crème for that, it will take the sting right off you.”

When it was time to climb out of the water the woman already had an incredibly soft and heated towel for Tauriel to wrap herself into. That too was much better than waiting for the cold river water to dry off in the sun. It was nearly too much, Tauriel thought, too much of a good thing to be real, but but she felt sleepy and relaxed enough not to care.

The woman gave her a long nightgown and bloomers to wear, which were light and seemed a little silly, and yet were comfortable to wear.

“Lie down child, I’ll take care of your poor feet,” the woman said, the smile evident in her voice even when Tauriel didn’t look at her. “And then we can have a little feast for ourselves, how about that?”

Tauriel was nearly too sleepy to agree. She lay on the bed, lips curled in a smile as she tried not to fall asleep vaguely registering the sounds of the woman arranging things in one of the shelves, and wondered if Kíli had ever enjoyed such a pleasant treatment. The woman’s soft warm hands were on her feet; gently massaging the cream she had spoken of against Tauriel’s aching soles. It really did help, cooling and taking any discomfort off her feet immediately.

She felt weightless, as if she was floating in water, or even in the sky just being a star, unconcerned about surviving the world below. She felt like she was at home.

"You're practically _shining_ , my dear," murmured the innkeeper with a satisfied tone of voice.  
" _Of course I am, I'm a star_ ," Tauriel was about to answer, her pleasure-fogged mind trying to figure out how to string words together.

A sudden clatter from downstairs jolted Tauriel out of her comfortable daze. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, eyes wide and ears alert, before realizing that something must have fallen in the entrance hall of the inn.

The woman frowned and glared towards the door.

“Oh what have they done now,” she muttered to herself, and then, as she realized that Tauriel was about to sit up, she smiled and soothingly patted her foot.

“Don’t worry about this child, I will quickly check what the girls are doing and then I’ll be right back. No need to fret about this.”

She gathered up her skirts and was out of the door, her soft steps clicking over the floor for a few more moments and then they were gone.

Tauriel sat up on the bed and looked around. She could pick up voices but couldn’t make out the words. Kíli was speaking for a moment, and then there was another crash. She also heard the woman snapping at someone.

Tauriel took the dark red robe that lay on the chair and tied it around her waist before slipping into her boots. It probably was nothing at all, but she wanted to make sure there was nothing she could do to help. Besides, she suddenly felt the need to see Kíli, to make sure he was alright as well.

*

Kíli was led into a big room with elaborate wooden furniture. The girls curtsied or bowed awkwardly, near stumbling over their own feet, and then scurried back out, closing the door behind them.

It left Kíli with nothing to do but sit down on the soft bed and frown. He felt awkward just sitting here, uncomfortable about the girls who had made no sound at all (aside from the occasional snuffle and grunt) and only glanced around with worried faces. Tauriel had been led away by the nearly intimidatingly grand woman, the innkeeper as it seemed. Tauriel was very easy to like, with her (secretly) being a star as well, but it felt strange to be ignored almost completely while his friend was cooed over so much.

He stared at the door, wondering where Tauriel was, then bounced a little on the mattress. He examined examined the carvings on the walls. He paced the floor for a little bit before flopping back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. There was nothing to do but wait and he didn’t want to wait here now. Time passed and Kíli wondered whether Tauriel was done with her bath and why the girls hadn’t returned with water for the promised bath. There was a tub behind the bed, but either way Kíli wouldn’t have felt like bathing right now.

Perhaps he could just walk down and wait downstairs. He pulled his bag into his lap and started searching for his most precious possessions. There were his father’s remaining trinkets and his mother’s talismans, both disappearing into pockets of his coat. The purse of coins wandered into his pockets as well, so Kíli could pay for their meals and rooms right away. He contemplated taking off his sword but he was used to the weight of it; now that he was in this strange environment without his companion (and lonely, his mind told him, though he shook that thought away quickly), the item was a reassurance. He tossed the bag onto the bed, intending to leave it behind, but picked it up again on second thought. He didn’t know whether the inn would get other guests, and there was no key in the door. A part of him was wary of the girls, and though he was loath to suspected them of going through his things upon mere presumption, he could not help but be wary of the possibility.

He walked downstairs quietly, hearing whispers of rasping deep voices though he couldn’t make out what was said. When he arrived in the hall Kíli saw that the girls had gathered at one of the tables, crouching on the chairs and benches or swaying on the spot nervously. They shut up as soon as they spotted Kíli, all of them frowning and staring at him wide eyed.

“Uh…” Kíli tried, not sure what to possibly say to make them feel less nervous. “Can I wait for my friend here? There’s nothing to do in my room and I’d rather be downstairs.”

The girls glanced at one another and then back at him. It was a little unnerving to see so many dark eyes fixed on him as if he might do something to them. Kíli was indecisive for a moment, then he shrugged and walked to one of the tables to put his bag down. Still the girls were watching.

“Will there be food?” he asked, thinking that it’d be best to have something to eat before it grew too late. He could not smell the scent of food being cooked, but maybe dinner had already been prepared hours ago and only needed to be reheated. “Do you have anything at all? An apple maybe? Cheese? Bread?”

The girls glanced at one another but none moved. Kíli tried his best not to sigh in exasperation at the strange behaviour. It seemed very unfriendly of them to not even _try_ to communicate in any way, but then... who knew what the customs of the different people of Arda were like? Surely not all of them would be like the people back in England.

He walked towards the door behind the counter, where he assumed the kitchen might be, but stopped as he saw the girls tense up.

“Am I allowed to go to the kitchen?” he tried, but the girls just rose from their seats and carefully walked around him in a wide circle before two of them were in front of the door. He took that as a no.

“All right, I’ll just go see how my friend is doing,” he muttered, turning to walk up the stairs. This time the girls moved quicker, one of them there to block the path with slightly outstretched arms before Kíli reached the first step.

He frowned and let her be, but when Kíli turned to the seat he had put his bag on it was gone, picked up by one of the girls who was currently trying to carry it back to his assigned room.

“No!” he called out, dashing after her. “There’s no need to do that!”

He tried to take the bag but the girl twisted away, eyes flashing.

“I want to keep it here!” Kíli said loudly and slowly, again reaching for his bag.

This time he managed to grab the strap but the girl curled her arms tighter around the bag and would not let go as Kíli tried to pull it bag. They pulled and tugged as the other girls watched quietly, the hold on Kíli’s bag _extremely_ strong for someone so small and thin. Suddenly the bag’s strap ripped and Kíli stumbled back as the girl fell against a chair.

There was a loud clatter as both she and the furniture ended up on the floor, hitting it hard as she was still holding on to the bag. She snarled as she got up, long sharp teeth protruding from shrivelled lips as she snarled at Kíli, her black eyes with a blood-red sheen. But only for a moment. She gurgled and gasped in surprise as her face reverted to its previous shape and she curled up towards the chair, shying away from Kíli and staring at him as if he would do something terrible. The others were still frozen in place, watching the scene with snarls on their faces, and Kíli felt sudden fear in his chest. He pulled his father’s sword by instinct, and they all hissed around him.

Was that normal for Arda? Were those girls even real humans or… whatever the people of Arda were?

_He needed to warn Tauriel, he needed to get away from this place._

Steps sounded from behind them and the innkeeper bustled down, holding up her many skirts. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, everyone looking back at her. For a moment Kíli thought she’d be angry with him, but then the woman frowned and marched down towards the girls.

“What is this?” she demanded. “Why are you not in the kitchen preparing the food? And what are _you_ doing to the possessions of our dear guest?”

She glared at the girl who’d fallen to the floor.

“Up, and repair the damage!”

Kíli waited nervously, his palms sweaty and he clenched his sword harder.

“I’m sorry,” he tried to appease everyone. “I overreacted, she wanted to bring my things away but I asked her not to and this…”

The girl tried to get up to her feet, terribly clumsy and falling to her knees several times in the process. Her face twisted and grimaced, teeth gleaming in the light of the lamps. She dropped the bag and when she finally rose to her feet she stumbled back, swaying and falling against the table. Somehow the impact was hard enough to send the table skidding.

Kíli winced at the noise, vaguely aware of the hissing and the innkeeper’s angry intake of breath.

The girl’s weight shifted as if she was readying for an attack, the woman opened her mouth for another rant and Kíli raised his sword, suddenly unsure of why he was even holding it if he had no idea how to use it without hurting what still appeared to be a young girl.

“Kíli?”

Tauriel leaned over the stair’s rail, her hair damp and a red robe secured about her waist. Everyone froze as she stared at the scene before her, then soundlessly moved down and walked past the girls to stand at Kíli’s side.

It was comforting to have her safe and by his side again. She seemed a little disturbed by what was going on, but her hand was on Kíli’s back and he knew she’d agree with what he was about to do next.

“I thank you for your hospitality,” Kíli started, subtly edging back with Tauriel doing the same. His eyes flickered over his bag and to the angry twisted face of the girl who’d tried to take it.

“But I really feel like we should proceed on our way. Thank you, and farewell.”

He spun around and made for the door, Tauriel in tow, but the girl suddenly snarled and let out a “NO.”

Her voice was deep and more a growl than a spoken word, and Kíli shivered as he tried to understand how such a little being could let out such a sound.

“You are not going anywhere,” the girl snarled, and she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was tall now, her features twisted into the grey visage of a monstrous creature. Its skin was mottled and scarred, pieces of thin twisted metal protruding from its shoulders and face as a form of grotesque decoration. Its black lips parted to reveal the same pointed teeth as Kíli had been shown moments before.

The other girls moved now, quicker than Kíli had seen them move before, and all of them were shifting into those tall or twisted creatures, their fingers extending into claws and their heads reshaping until there was nothing remotely human about them at all. They darted to the front door, cutting off Kíli and Tauriel’s escape and making the two stumble back.

One of them tore a lamp from the wall and threw it in their direction. The aim was poor but its contact with the table next to Kíli and Tauriel was enough to shatter the glass and set the wood alight. The innkeeper had moved away from the girls, her back pressed flush to the wall as she stared with wide eyes.

“To the window,” Kíli hissed and grabbed Tauriel’s hand.

He tried not to think of anything but how to get out of this place, tried not to question how what he saw was _possible_.

The other creatures did not stand by idly. Others took lamps and threw them, narrowly missing but Kíli’s relief at that was short-lived as he realized that flames were bursting up around them, blocking the way where the monsters weren’t enough.

_'They're not trying to hit us,'_ he realised with dismay, _'they're trapping us!'_

Kíli looked around frantically, trying to think of what to do.

“Those are Orcs,” Tauriel whispered. “I have seen them when I watched battles. Creatures of darkness, ruthless and joyful only in the suffering of those they seek to harm."

"Oh, joy, just our luck," huffed Kili.

The oil in the lamps made everything burn quickly and it was hard to think with the heat rising. Kíli blinked through the hairs falling into his eyes and spotted a path through the flames, currently occupied by Orcs. The windows were blocked and the door was guarded, and Kíli could see no way to reach the door that might lead through the kitchen without running through the flames. He wasn’t sure if he could fight past the Orcs either, and the way Tauriel worried he wasn’t sure if he wanted to try.

“The stairs,” Tauriel hissed and they bolted towards them.

The stairs would lead them up, but up was still cooler than the burning room and up was free of creatures trying to capture them. Up maybe meant finding another way back down or even climbing…

One of the Orcs was right behind them as they were halfway up the stairs, brandishing a long forked dagger. Kíli paused for just a moment to slash at the creature as the dagger came down on them. The Orc pulled away from the hit but it was grinning cruelly. Then it slashed back at Kíli in turn, hitting his sword hard enough to make his entire arm hurt under the force, and then knocking the sword down into the flames.

Kíli watched helplessly as it disappeared out of his sight and the Orc’s smile widened. Tauriel’s hand twisted against Kíli’s shoulder and he felt himself be shoved out of the way as she stepped before him and gave the creature one powerful kick right into its chest, catching it off guard and sending it flying against the other Orcs who’d tried to move up.

Then they were running again, trying to figure out where to go in the corridors of an unfamiliar house. Kíli could see more stairs leading up and down, but there were more Orcs coming up that way so he chose a different branch of the corridor and ran, praying to all the powers he knew to grant them a way out.

There were more stairs, these only leading up to the dark corridors of the next floor, but there was no choice. Tauriel, whose longer legs carried her faster, grasped his wrist to tug him along when he stumbled, whispering something about barely seeing the creatures. The next floor was empty, but by now they could hear the cries of the Orcs and the roar of fire underneath.

There was only one way to go in the much shorter corridor so they ran in the direction of two big elaborate doors. Kíli shoved against them, fearing that they might be locked for a moment. To his relief the doors swung open, revealing a flat walkway around the slanted roof of the house. There were old benches and a balustrade there, and the way led around the roof and also towards a tower at the side of the building.

Again there was no choice about where to go, as the shrieks from inside the house were anything but reassuring.

“Towards the tower,” Kíli said, fear in his voice as he knew he’d need to come up with something or see them both die. He’d promised to protect Tauriel and here he was failing at the first sign of danger.

“The Eagles!” Tauriel called out as they ran, sudden hope in her eyes. “Kíli, there used to be those gliders around here! We can fly away, the inn was one of the stop points!”

Kíli dared to hope as well as they reached the tower. They saw a lock at the door and blocked it behind them before they ran up the narrow stairs, up and up in a circle until they reached a flat platform with a little runway sticking out into the open space.

Kíli nearly dropped to his knees in relief. His heart was pounding and he felt as if he’d be sick from the exhaustion, but they could not stop.

There were some old gliders standing there indeed, most of them in a corner but one already facing the runway. It was a little cart with wheels, ropes and beams connecting it to the long kite-like wings on top of it, and Kíli was sure he’d seen illustrations of something of the kind in a book once. The wood had once been painted to look like feathers, but the golden colour was flaking off everywhere.

“Do you think this will fly?” Tauriel asked as they ran towards it to examine it.

It looked so old and rusty in the bits where metal was, but it would have to do.

“It’ll make it,” Kíli said firmly and helped Tauriel climb into the cart.

There were two seats and she chose the one at the back, so that Kíli would be able to use the levers. They looked as if they were connected to the wheels, and some to the kite-wings. It looked easy enough to figure out.

The flames had taken the roof of the inn by then, still far enough away from the tower, but the heat already making the air blurry and could be felt from their spot at the Eagle. Kíli ignored it as he checked whether anything was blocking the wheels, but there was only a metal bar connected to the end of one of the levers that seemed to keep the Eagle from rolling off the roof.

He climbed inside and took a deep breath. Kíli wiped his sweaty palms against his trousers before he gripped the lever that would start the Eagle.

“Hold on!”

He gently started pulling the lever, heard the creak and…

Nothing.

Kíli tugged at it a few more times but the lever refused to move further.

“It’s not working?”

Tauriel leaned over his seat and together they tried each lever, first pulling gently then harder until they put all their force into it. Still nothing. The levers must have rusted so much that they could not be used anymore, and without a way to unblock the wheels there was no way to fly!

For a moment Kíli lost his thoughts in his fear in frustrations. He kicked against the lever with scream, not moving it an inch, and he ran his hands through his hair. Tauriel’s hands were clinging to him and he tried to calm down, trying to think. He heard the Orcs downstairs, apparently having figured out that their prey must have run up the tower.

They had to fly…

Perhaps if they could not fly on an Eagle’s wings, they could fly on a Raven’s.

Kíli was angry with himself that he’d nearly forgotten about his father’s feathers. He wasn’t sure whether they would work for two but he had to try.

“Hold on to me as tightly as you can,” he told Tauriel and she nodded. She wrapped her arms around his middle as hard as she could without hurting him and watched what he would do.

Kíli tried to get out the feathers, fingers shaking as he heard the noise of a door being kicked in. He fumbled with his chest pocket and tried to fish out the feathers, crying out as the wind carried some of the smaller ones away. They broke in his hand, warm to the touch as they had when he first got them, but nothing happened, and wood burst somewhere nearby, and all of a sudden _the heat was too much and would the feathers even carry Tauriel along with him? He could not leave her!_

Finally he held one feather in his shaking fingers, mind empty as he tried to recall how to use it.

“You must think of where you want to be! Think of a safe place,” he begged as he felt Tauriel nod behind him.

Steps boomed up to them and Kíli closed his eyes.

‘ _Fly us somewhere safe, fly us somewhere safe, fly us somewhere safe, safe, safe-_ ’

The feather went icy in his hand but nothing happened.

They were doomed.

Kíli bit back a sob of despair as he stuffed it down his shirt. The Orcs’ voices were so close… How could he fight them?

Just as the first grey head appeared in the floor’s opening the Eagle suddenly started to shake. Kíli and Tauriel both let out a cry of shock as the flying machine gently started to roll towards the edge of the platform and the Orc’s eyes widened in surprise.

The feeling of Tauriel clinging to him and the unbearable heat of the fire, as well as the icy feeling of the useless feather against his chest were all Kíli could sense.

There were some angry snarls behind them as the Eagle sped up and rushed towards the edge, and Kíli screwed his eyes shut before something powerful hit the Eagle and they were falling _up_. For a moment everything was a blur but then they were unmistakably rushing up into the sky, screaming as the ground disappeared below them.


	24. Out of the Fire and into the Storm

Thick black smoke rose off the collapsed building, obscuring the stars above. The fires still burned, consuming the few remaining bits of the inn’s structure, finding easy fodder in the old dried out wood. The spell that had made it appear new and habitable burned away with the rest of it.

Smaug climbed over the cracking rubble, ash and sparks rising under her feet with each step she took. Her shoes were smouldering but she did not care. Her hands were trembling in her anger as she clutched the scorched shreds of her skirts, scales and claws showing and for the moment she paid them no mind. She looked all beast in the shine of the fire glow and the soot. The Orcs shirked from her, treating her as the Dragon she was, ready to burn down all that somehow still remained, ready to swallow all of them whole. There seemed to be fewer of them now, but Smaug did not care to pay more attention.

_So close_ , the star had been within her grasp, with lowered defences, _shining_ and its heart at its most powerful, brimming with energy for Smaug to feast on.

And now it was _gone_ , all because of some puny little mortal and the rashness of her Orcs. That and dumb luck as well. How could they have flown on old contraptions that were falling apart from old age?

Smaug’s burning inhuman eyes turned towards the bits of clear sky showing through the smoke, again looking for the trace of a tiny little glider to follow on wings, again without any results.

A Dragon’s powerful roar echoed through the forest, the pure rage of it jarring any creature that was close enough to hear to the bone.

*

The rain was whipping down on deck and all around them, making it hard to understand what was going on. Nori’s shouted orders could barely be heard among the crew, the noise of the storm and the occasional thunderclap along with the cracking of the lightning nets and the _zing_ of a lighting catch drowning out his voice. Still he had managed to command the crew as that _something_ had nearly crashed into the Wind Dancer.

Nori’s hands clenched on the ropes along the stairs as he walked down, glaring at the thing in the middle of the crew. All who didn’t have to hold on to the generators had gathered to stand around their newest catch.

When the _thing_ had scraped past the ship’s hull for the first time Nori’s command had been to throw out nets to catch it before it could do damage. He had considered having Sigrid shoot it down, but even an experienced archer or harpoonist would struggle to manage anything in the middle of a storm cloud, not to mention that Nori couldn’t tell for sure whether the thing was capable of attacking or not. If it was something living it might even lash out and damage the lightning nets, which Nori wished to avoid as much as possible.

Now the thing was trapped and hauled onto deck and his crew stood at a safe distance, uncertain of what to do.

“What have you caught?” Nori called out over the wind.

Lifur and Mirra moved aside as he approached and Nori stopped after passing them, standing right in front of the lowered nets. It took him a moment to realize what the broken contraption was, with its kite-like glider and a hull to sit in. It was small with no apparent mechanics apart from the kite. And its pilots sat huddled together with their backs pressed to their broken glider, blinking up through the rain.

“’S a simple glider,” Bofur whispered, barely audible even standing so close to Nori. “They’re just for fun or for messages, haven’t seen one in years. And nowhere near these parts either.”

Nori narrowed his eyes and looked around at his crew. From their expressions he could tell that they were as uncertain about this as he was. Such a kite would never reach the altitudes the Wind Dancer travelled at, and such a kite simply could _not_ rise high in such a storm without breaking apart under the rain’s force in a short time. It could not be as simple as it seemed, and even if it was a normal glider it wasn’t reassuring.

He stood still as the rain and wind tore at his buttoned up raincoat and made his neat braid stream like a flag. The occasional lightning and the net’s glow was the only proper illumination, more than enough for the crew but appearing to further disorientate the two pilots. They didn’t look as if they were armed but this wasn’t the place to examine them or decide what to do. There was lightning to be caught, and the more the crew just stood there and stared the less they could focus on their business and on manoeuvring the ship for the best yield.

“Bring them to the storage room,” Nori snapped to be heard clearly over the wind. He gestured to Glóin and Bifur. “Lock them up and make sure they stay there, bind them if necessary. Keep them from trying anything funny till the Captain can decide what to make of this!”

The two immediately sprang into action to follow through with it, hauling up the two shipwrecked pilots and holding their arms tight to prevent them from trying anything rash or falling on the wet deck. They looked startled and the shorter one struggled for a moment, but they barely resisted, just looking on with wide shocked eyes. Nori watched them being led away, squinting and his mind already trying to find an explanation for how they had ended up _here_ , of all places. The next thunderclap reminded him of his more urgent task, though, and he turned to send the rest of the crew back to their work.

*

The ropes binding Kíli and Tauriel together weren’t cutting into their flesh or restricting their breathing, but it was near impossible to even attempt to get up, their awkward positions and the constant swaying of the ground keeping them from doing it. So they sat back to back in the dim storage room, ropes over their torsos, surrounded by barrels and caskets and packages hanging from the ceiling and swaying along.

Kíli had no idea how they ended up here, or where _here_ even was. His desperate wish for a safe place had been replaced by pure fear and confusion as the Eagle had been thrown around by wind in every direction, the ground and clouds and then only clouds a constant blur in the disorienting darkness, Tauriel’s hold on him the only thing that didn’t change.

Then there was a storm, and lightning and the certainty that their ride surely would not withstand the sudden assault of the elements. And that was before the giant _thing_ had appeared out of nowhere, dark against the lightning for one moment and illuminated in sharp contrasts the next. The Eagle had crashed against it and Kíli had been sure that this would be the end.

The glider was already breaking around them when they were caught in a net and pulled onto the thing, like a fish out of the sea, exposed and helpless, drenched and unsure of what was going on.

Kíli had wanted to attack or at least get up and protect Tauriel in case she was hurt and couldn’t, but he’d been frozen in shock, his legs cramping and his head aching from the noise of the storm and the motion and the attempts to understand what had happened as the ship’s - how could they be on a _ship_?! – crew just stared at them.

At least it wasn’t Orcs.

They had been fooled before, but somehow Kíli was sure that these people weren’t monsters as the inn’s girls had turned out to be. Those acted human, which was a brief relief, though Kíli knew how humans could be just as dangerous as beasts.

He hadn’t protested as the leader of the crew had loomed over them, watching as he stood seemingly undisturbed by the wind and rain beating down on him. In those endless seconds Kíli had feared that they would be thrown overboard (and he did not want to think of what was beyond the ship’s rail anyway) but in the end he had merely ordered them locked away.

Scary enough on its own, the men grabbing Tauriel and Kíli to lead them away with ease were burly with their wild hair flying in the wind, the scars on their faces prominent enough to be seen even in the storm’s darkness. One of them even seemed to have something metal stuck in his forehead but that could not possibly be true. 

 

They had been shoved together by him as the other man tied them back to back and made them sit down in the middle of the storage room. They did put a light up, a lamp that illuminated everything in a very dim way. Better than being left alone in the unfamiliar dark within a swaying ship.

Kíli had tried to pull on the ropes a little, and so had Tauriel, but clearly the men had known what they were doing as they secured them. Not to mention that one or even both were probably standing sentry outside their door, and that Kíli was certain that he had heard a lock click. There was little use in trying to get free and escape. If this truly was a flying ship up in the sky, there was no way to flee either. The Eagle was broken and the last Ravens’ feather was tucked away in Kíli’s shirt, icy against his skin and useless.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, bowing his head in shame. “I have no idea why the feathers didn’t work. I wished for them to take us to someplace safe and they didn’t work and now we’re here. Not much better, is it.”

He heard Tauriel sigh behind him.

“I felt so safe and comfortable in that inn, I thought the people were safe too. I wished for them to take us to someone who really _would_ be safe. Didn’t work out, it seems,” she muttered. “Maybe our wishes were too different. I suppose the feather couldn’t decide if it wanted to go to _someplace_ or _someone_ , and burned itself out with the effort.”

The cold of the feather made Kíli frown, angry with it for putting them in danger again.

“Out of the fire, into the storm,” he muttered.

The anger was replaced by a sickening rush of guilt and responsibility for failing his friend. 

He had failed to live up to his promise, failed to protect the star as he wanted ever since he had gotten to know her. He had failed to find anything suitable for Ned, and he wasn’t sure if he’d find his way back to England if he was being captured so often.

“I’m sorry for putting you in danger,” he said, wishing he could face Tauriel for this.

“You didn’t.”

“It was my fault though, I should have realized that the inn couldn’t possibly be what it seemed to be! I should have known that those girls were strange.”

“Kíli, you couldn’t have known.”

“I could! I did feel like something was off but I didn’t say anything,” Kíli insisted, voice a little agitated by then as he slowly started to realize the gravity of what they had escaped. 

“And it’s because of me that we were carried up to I-don’t-even-know-where after nearly burning alive, and now I got you _captured_ by these… pirates, probably-”

“Kìli! Will you _just shut up?_ ” Tauriel snapped, and Kíli’s mouth snapped shut.

"Will you listen to yourself, at how _ridiculous_ this is? It's not your fault, and even if it was, complaining is not going to get us out of this room, now will you please stop feeling sorry for yourself for happening to be in danger that was _not your fault_?

Kíli’s shaky inhale was the only sound to be heard for the next few moments, before Tauriel sighed again and he felt her slump a little behind him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't...um..." She sounded so lost.

"I know," he replied quietly, and they sat for a few minutes in silence, lost to their own thoughts.

Tauriel's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as she thought about what to say next.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there. I’m a star, I’m not _meant_ to walk through Arda like this, experiencing a mortal’s life and a mortal’s dangers. I don’t know how to get by in so many ways, I’ve watched adventures and lives, often dreamed of venturing down for my own travels, but I don’t know if I would have descended on my own. I didn’t even know what to do when everything was burning and you tried to get us out, I just followed because you were fighting too.”

She rolled her shoulder a little, nudging Kíli’s.

“If I were on my own there I might have not gotten out.”

Kíli tried a to smile, feeling tired more than anything else now. The night had taken its toll on him after all.

“I just promised to keep you from harm and I’m not doing the best job of that.”

“When did you promise that?”

Tauriel shifted and Kíli realized that he had not told her of his strange dream yet.

“That first night when we met, I fell asleep and I dreamed of stars and flying. There… there was a Lady. I saw a Lady speaking to me, asking me to protect the star, meaning you, telling me that you would be in danger for as long as you walk in Arda? I promised to make sure nothing could get you, and it felt so _real_.”

There was silence between them, only the soft creaking of the walls and the muffled storm outside filling the time.

“I don’t know what that could mean,” Tauriel said, though she sounded uncertain, lost in thought.

The ropes creaked a little as Tauriel struggled for a while, and before Kíli could ask what she was trying to do her long slim hand wrapped around his fingers awkwardly.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” she said, and Kíli was sure he could hear the smile in her voice.

He tried to squeeze her hand as well as he could and smiled as well, comforted by her being with him at least.

They sat in silence after, and Kíli lost track of time. They held hands and the storm raged on, somehow very present in its noise and the thunderclaps but strangely removed from the little storage room, as if Kíli and Tauriel were in a different world entirely.

Their wet clothes dried a little but remained damp. It wasn’t cold in the storage room, but after a while Kíli started to shiver and Tauriel tried to shift in her thick robe to get more warmth from it.

It occurred to Kíli that they had nearly slept in an abandoned inn that somehow looked very much lived in, had nearly been roasted by fire and killed by lightning before being captured and bound by pirates. All after watching Orcs grow out of small girls in simple dresses. For some reason that last bit seemed hilarious to Kíli now and he snorted.

As Tauriel asked what was so funny he simply whispered, "We were basically chased by Orcs in dresses," and Tauriel started laughing too. After so much misery, the sound was the most wonderful thing Kili had heard all night.

Despite their exhaustion and current circumstances, they laughed and giggled, unable to stop until something knocked against the door hard and they remembered that they still were trapped in an inescapable place and sobered up.

Kíli’s hand clenched around Tauriel’s and she squeezed back as well. They shifted closer together, as much as they could back to back, when the door opened shortly after.

One of the men from before (the one who indeed seemed to have some broken piece of weaponry stuck in his forehead) entered, carrying a lamp which he placed on a barrel. He watched Kíli and Tauriel carefully as another entered, this time the man who had given orders for their imprisonment. He wasn’t wearing his rain gear now; instead he was in a vest and clothes similar to those of the crew, but almost indistinguishably neater and a pair of sturdy leather goggles hung around his neck, something Kíli had noticed the men in the rain wearing. 

He didn’t say a word as the man with the injury nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him again.

“So,” the man said after a while of only watching them. “What new kind of spies did the wind bring us here?”

His voice was quiet, sharp and dangerous, just as the man himself. He started walking, circling his prisoners just shy out of reach. Kíli tried his best to sit still and not show how afraid he was and only followed him with his eyes. There were two curved knives on the small of the man’s back. Long and even hidden away by leather, they made Kíli shiver.

“What are you then? Thieves out after our cargo? Trying to grab our lightning? Spies? Let me tell you, the last time we had _those_ on board they didn’t stay on board for very long. I suspect they made a good acquaintance with the ground, very soon after.”

He had circled them fully as he spoke and stopped to crouch down in front of Kíli, his narrow golden eyes fixed on him like on prey.

“It would be convenient for you to be thieves. Thieves we can reason with. Spies on the other hand…” he leaned his head to the side, his braid sliding along his shoulder and Kíli tried to hold the man’s gaze. “Spying out King Thorin’s matters would be high treason, wouldn’t it? The Captain is very touchy about this, he’d love to wring your pretty necks before removing your heads from your bodies if you are.”

“We are _not_ thieves,” Kíli said quietly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Behind him Tauriel was tense and still. “And I don’t even _know_ that King… Thorn, was it? Please, we are no spies.”

“Hm,” the man raised his eyebrow and looked Kíli up and down, noting his empty scabbard and the dishevelled state he was in. His hand reached out and Kíli was proud that he didn’t flinch as the man patted over his chest and along his belt to check for other weapons.

“You’d be piss-poor spies either way.”

Kíli tried not to feel insulted at that he was dismissed, but part of him was glad that getting his neck wrung might be a bit less likely. The man leaned closer still though, and of course, other possible crimes might result in death anyway.

“Then why are you two on this ship in the middle of a Harvest?”

“Harvest?”

“The lightning,” Tauriel realized. “They are harvesting lighting.”

The man’s eyes fixed on the back of Tauriel’s head and a sharp smile tugged at his lips, the furthest from reassuring.

“Stupid little thieves, but that one’s a bit more clever it seems.”

He got up and circled them again, this time moving to stand in front of Tauriel. Kíli tried to look back to keep an eye on him, entirely uncomfortable about the smile on the man’s lips.

“Very peculiar stupid little thieves. Crashing into the ship in such an obvious manner.”

He leaned closer to Tauriel, watching her now. To her credit, she sat up straight, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, face blank except for defiance burning in her eyes.

“And somehow dressed in nothing but a thin nightshirt and a precious robe…”

“Don’t you _dare_ touch her,” Kíli snarled, louder than he would have dared speak if he was thinking right. He didn’t want that man anywhere near them, he did not want him threatening Tauriel or even looking at the star, he didn’t want to see her in danger any more this night.

The man merely raised his eyebrow again, staring Kíli down with his narrow eyes. He said nothing for a moment, gaze flicking back and forth between his wet and dishevelled prisoners.

“You better get your story straight by the time the Captain speaks to you,” he said finally and turned away from them to saunter out, leaving them locked in again just as quickly as he had arrived.

Kíli shivered and Tauriel’s hand tried to pet his in reassurance. If that man, who must be the second in command from the way he acted and ordered the others around, was so intimidating, how must the Captain be like?

They were left to wait for a few more minutes, though in the silence of the small room it felt like hours, before the first two men who’d locked them away arrived.

“Right, time to see the Captain,” the one with a big red beard announced.

He and the other really did look like pirates, Kíli thought as the one with metal in his head took Tauriel’s arm and made her walk in front of him. They were led out, into the rain, which was much lighter now, and towards a different door. Kíli tried to look around for the brief moment he could see the deck, but it was hard as his eyes had still not adjusted to the dark. The crewmembers weren’t gathered around anymore, as they were before, but they were looming in the dark, watching still. There were stairs leading up to a higher deck though, and Kíli could see the man with the red braid who had interrogated them them standing there.

He was in his coat again, still uncaring for the rain through his long red braid was soaked through. He leaned with his hands on the rail and looked down as Kíli and Tauriel were led past, and Kíli felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

What would they do to them now?

They were pushed into a corridor, too dark to really make out either. Then they were led to a room, closest to the door, and finally there was light to make things out properly. There was a massive table and a chest standing next to it, a long couch with a smaller table by its side, and Kíli could make out some closed shelves in the dim light.

There were decorations and strange devices that looked like lamps but had no mechanism or candle in them, but otherwise the room didn’t look very decorated besides the elegant engravings on the not-quite-matching furniture.

_It must be the Captain’s room_ , Kíli figured, feeling a little afraid and trying not to show it. They were left to wait on their own, and neither of them was brave enough to do anything but stand in the middle of the room, dripping rainwater on the carpet as they waited for the Captain to arrive.


	25. The Captain

Kíli stood in the dark room, freezing in his soaked clothes and with the damned feather still cold against his skin. He didn’t dare to reach into his shirt to pull it out, out of fear that somebody would enter just at that moment and think he was trying to pull out a weapon. Tauriel was by his side at least, so close their hands brushed. She was quiet and held her head high, though Kíli felt her shiver of the cold as well, and he knew that she was hiding any fear she might feel.

Outside the rain was beating against the room’s windows and every once in a while a muffled shout was heard as the crew followed orders to manoeuvre their strange ship through the clouds.

The minutes stretched torturously slow and Kíli didn’t dare move in the Captain’s quarters. They were unbound, but he supposed that in their state they were seen as so little a threat that tying them up again wouldn't make much difference - they were unarmed and at the mercy of an entire crew should they attempt an attack or an escape. Around them there were the faintest noises which the rain couldn’t drown out. Creaking of wood here and there as the ship was turning and moving along. Barely audible chimes coming from the desk, where gently moving instruments worked on determining whatever they had been built to detect. It was nearly peaceful in this place, as if it didn’t belong to storm-hunting pirates. 

A part of Kíli wanted to try and flee, see if the Eagle was still on board and if it maybe wasn’t as broken as it had looked like in the chaos after being pulled aboard. He wanted to try and come up with a good lie to save them, so he and Tauriel knew what they would tell the captain. But there was the chance that somebody stood guard at the door and would hear them whisper and know for sure how they were lying. Not to mention that Kíli doubted he could overpower pirates if he’d already failed with Orcs, or manage to reach and fix the Eagle without the crew noticing.

Sure enough, muffled voices became audible on the other side of the door: the red-bearded man (Kili assumed, from the muffled accent) being answered by a deep rumbling voice, though Kili could not make out the words.

Tauriel did not move, but Kíli reached for her hand, squeezing it for the briefest of moments, and her fingers squeezed back in what little comfort they could give each other before they let go.

The door opened and in the dim light of the corridor beyond Kíli could see the red-bearded man stepping aside quickly, to let his captain enter the room. 

He did his best not to move, neither to take half a step back, nor to stand straighter by reflex.

The Captain was a tall man, taller than anyone in Kíli’s little hometown. He took up more space for sure, his broad shoulders and barrel chest seeming even more impressive with the ship’s narrow build and the corridor behind him. There were scars on his bare forearms and most noticeable right across his face, the largest running over his furrowed brow down to end over his broken hook of a nose. Even his hair had a wild look about it, escaping the band he’d tied it with and strands stood on end, reminding Kíli of a wild beast somehow, more dangerous than even Beorn had ever seemed. But then again, Beorn hadn't had them locked in a storage room and interrogated.

He looked as if he could easily break someone like Kíli in half, and the light sharp eyes focusing on him made Kíli feel as if the man was well aware of this and was using his size as a silent threat. As if that wasn’t enough, broad belts ran over the man’s torso and a sword, that seemed so much bigger and _more used_ than any Kíli had seen, hung on the Captain’s hip.

The Captain took a few steps into the room, taking the travellers in as they tried to keep their breathing quiet. Behind him the long-braided man who’d interrogated them slipped in and closed the door. His narrow eyes flicked briefly from the Captain to their prisoners. The briefest smirk appeared on his lips as he moved through the room soundlessly until he stood somewhere behind them; where or how close exactly Kíli couldn’t tell, not daring to take his eyes off the Captain.

Kíli felt even more defenceless than he already was as the Captain watched them. What could he possibly do to protect Tauriel and himself from that man and his crew? There was nothing; he had no sword anymore (what little use it had been in the first place), he was cold and tired and did not have the energy to fight a man twice his size. Tauriel was agile and had surprising strength but she was inexperienced in a fight, so she was in no better position. Neither of them knew the ship or how to get off it, and none of Kíli’s magic trinkets would be of any use. The only thought he spared for his last Raven feather was how the useless thing had finally stopped freezing against his chest.

The Captain finally moved again, not nearly as smooth and quietly as the other man had, but without any attention paid to Kíli and Tauriel. He sat down behind the heavy desk and flicked a finger against one of the many trinkets, a tiny jar which spun for a moment and then illuminated the room a little better, though not by much. Only after he took off his sword and leaned it against the desk in easy reach did the Captain look at the two trapped in his room again.

“So,” he said, and his voice was a harsh growl, rumbling straight through Kíli’s chest.

“What are a pup and a lass in nothing but a nightie and a robe doing on my ship in the middle of a storm?”

His eyes narrowed as he glanced from one to the other.

“Thieves or spies or complete fools, do not think I won’t find out if you lie to me. My first mate told me about how he found you, how you don’t even have weapons. So you better consider your answer well.”

Kíli glanced at Tauriel who was staring straight ahead without showing any of her nervousness, so he decided to at least attempt the same. Instead of letting himself be intimidated into showing any fear Kíli straightened his shoulders and looked at the Captain with barely concealed defiance. 

“We are no thieves,” Kíli tried with his politest tone, valiantly combating the exhaustion that was threatening his patience for diplomacy. “I am not sure what your first mate told you, but he must have seen that us coming close to your ship was an accident?”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly, and the man in question could be seen casually leaning against the wall. He had taken out one of his long knives and was sharpening it now, and Kíli had to conceal a nervous shiver at the thought of how exposed their backs were to him.

“There is no way we could have stolen anything even if we were trying to, I didn’t even know what this ship _does_.”

Tauriel hadn’t moved but the set of her jaw was less tense as Kíli glanced at her briefly. The Captain hadn’t moved and still was watching without interruption, so Kíli went on.

“And we’re no no spies either, that’s ridiculous. Do we look like that? I do not mean anyone any harm, and I don’t even _know_ that King Thorn, neither of us is from around here and we don’t want to interfere with anyone.”

A muscle twitched in the Captain’s jaw and his eyes narrowed, making Kíli shut up right away. Had he said something wrong? Were they even more suspicious now? The Captain leaned forward across the table, hands braced against it and Kíli thought that even those were sufficient enough a weapon to intimidate anyone.

“I do not know where you think you are,” the man snarled quietly. “But you are thousands of feet above the ground aboard the _Wind Dancer_ , I am Captain Dwalin, in service of King _Thorin_ , and I will not tolerate even the slightest hint of mockery.”

Behind them the First Mate’s knife chinked especially loudly in the silence as Kíli berated himself for getting the King’s name wrong. What a stupid thing to cause someone’s wrath. The Captain truly looked angry about it, though perhaps he wasn’t a pirate after all, if he was in the service of a King. Would that mean that they were safe? Then again, who knew what kind of king this Thorin was.

“We meant no insult,” Tauriel insisted before Kíli could open his mouth. “Neither of us is familiar with Arda’s kingdoms, so we only heard his name for the very first time when your first mate questioned us.”

Kíli nodded along with her, as he set his jaw to keep his face neutral, through his brows twitched as they tried to settle in a defiant glare.

Dwalin’s eyes flicked over to the man behind them and then back to Tauriel. Behind them the floorboards creaked a tiny bit as the man shifted his weight. Not exactly reassuring.

“All right,” the Captain said, his voice mild. “I will give you a last opportunity to tell me the truth, and then I will let Nori deal with you to keep my ship free of disturbance.”

The long, grinding scrape of a knife against a whetstone sounded behind them. Dwalin’s icy eyes were fixed on Kíli’s and to his dismay he could not think of any believable excuse as to why they had ended up on the ship, he didn’t even _know_ himself.

“We attempted to ride the vessel that crashed on your ship without testing it beforehand, and the flight went wrong. This accident does not justify our imprisonment,” Tauriel said, and everyone's eyes were on her again.

Behind them Nori snorted.

“Must have gone incredibly wrong if you ended up _here_.”

Dwalin frowned at him briefly before turning his attention back to Tauriel.

“Why were you in that thing in the first place?”

“Honeymoon,” Tauriel said, her face completely serious. “We only just got married and we wanted to take a ride. As I said, it went wrong.”

Kíli nodded eagerly, to hide his own surprise.

“Yes, I was certain I could handle the Eagle, which apparently was a mistake-”

“I shouldn’t have wanted to fly at night,” Tauriel added. “But my _husband_ promised to show me the night sky up close when we were wed."

“Yes, perhaps we were being reckless, and I'm sure the steering controls were broken when we got the machine, that's why the mechanic's price was so low I bet... the wind picked us up and carried us much higher than I intended. Before we knew it, it ended up blowing us right into a storm and then we nearly crashed into your ship.”

"Well, _actually_ crashed into the ship," corrected Tauriel, more to Kili than to Dwalin.

“Funny how quickly that can happen.”

Dwalin’s eyebrows rose with every new lie the two told. Kíli knew their story was a hard sell, but he still clung to the hope that Captain Dwalin would accept it. Finally the Captain sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nori threatened to kick you overboard, didn't he?” he growled, effectively cutting off more excuses from Tauriel and Kili. “I'll just say now that you are too daft to be spies and you wouldn’t have managed to carry anything away if you were thieves, so we can’t punish you on those grounds. We’ll just boot you off when we next dock and be on our way.”

He looked more annoyed than angry as he spoke.

“I spent the day and night dealing with plotting courses, manoeuvring this ship into a storm, hunting for lightning and finally trying to sleep off the stress of managing this damned crew. I could be asleep right _now_ , knowing that we made a good catch and there’s no brats to take care of as well. So the least you can do is _stop lying_.”

"If we could get back our machine we could just leave and you'd be rid of us, if you find us so annoying," muttered Kili flippantly with a glower and Dwalin's eyes narrowed.

"You watch your tongue, boy, unless you want to lose it before we reach port."

"I don't negotiate with pirates," snapped Kili, the fraying strand of his patience breaking before he could reign in his temper. Tauriel inhaled sharply next to him, and it was only her reaction that made him curse inwardly at his outburst. He was just tired of being treated like a naughty schoolboy, as if he had _meant_ to fly into a storm and end up on this ship.

Dwalin stared at him in disbelief before his brows knit together in a frown.

"We're not pirates," he rumbled, displeased at the accusation, though not particularly angry. A snort came from behind Kili but Dwalin paid no attention to his first mate.

“If you know _anything_ of Eagles,” Dwalin went on, as if Kíli hadn’t interrupted, “Then you know that they cannot possibly fly as high as a sky ship, especially not an antiquated crumbling one like yours. And who would fly in a storm? It would have taken _hours_ to get from a place where you could even see the sky to the middle of the storm.”

Kíli thought of the Raven’s feather, now crumbling in his shirt. Had it worked after all then? How _far_ had they been carried from the burning inn?

"Kili," hissed Tauriel quietly, and he looked up at her. Her expression was calm but her eyes were stern; she was as tired as he was, damp hair hanging limply about her shoulders. _Arguing will do us no favours,_ her look conveyed, and loath as he was to back down, he knew that she was right. His pride wasn't just risking his own neck, but hers as well.

Kili looked back at the man behind the desk, at the sword, and down at himself. He was filthy, sooty clothes soaked through with rainwater. He could be anyone, a liar and fool, and there was nothing that would give him any credibility. 

With one last glance at Tauriel he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“The truth then,” he agreed, knowing that it was much less believable than any lie they could have come up with. But it was all they had left.

"We did not lie...not exactly. Well, not at first. I spoke the truth when I said we are not from these lands. My companion here is from far...um...upward of here, and wanted to see the world for the first time. It's our first time away from home, and this is going to sound ridiculous but...I'm from another world, far to the west, a country called England, and I-"

Kíli had expected Dwalin to finally lose his patience at the talk of other worlds, but strangely enough the Captain leaned closer with a spark of interest in his eyes.

Encouraged, Kili hesitantly began to describe the important bits of their story, without giving away too much about himself or Tauriel. He spoke of his father, an Englishman who travelled Arda and had brought back talismans and magic trinkets that he himself didn't quite understand. Tauriel, he explained to the Captain, had met him by chance when they they were both lost in the woods, and they became travelling companions with no clear destination in mind. Finally he mentioned the inn, how it had seemed harmless enough at first though something was amiss, and the little silent serving girls who had become terrible monsters and set the building on fire to trap them. At last, he detailed the desperate escape attempt with the Eagle, though he did not mention the Raven feather.

When Kíli was done Tauriel’s hand wrapped around his in a reassuring squeeze, and the Captain was quiet as he pondered what he had been told; the sound of the first mate’s knife had stopped as well, and Kíli and Tauriel held their breaths as they waited for a response. Even the rain had quietened down as Kíli told the little tale.

Dwalin sat with his hands folded in front of his chin, considering the story. Kíli found himself staring at the faded tattoos that adorned the man’s work roughened hands, and even there he had scars intersecting the dark lines. The scarred man turned to Nori, and Kíli was too tired to wonder what the silent exchange was about as Dwalin frowned at his first mate. The look he was giving Kíli and Tauriel was calculating and worried, and Kíli couldn’t care beyond noticing. He had nothing else to say in his defence, and he was _not_ going to reveal the only information he knew of his mother, the mysterious spellcaster Lady Blackbird. He was prepared to die before admitting that Tauriel was a star, too.

“I knew a man from that other world, England, once,” Dwalin finally said, a tinge of sadness and regret in his voice, much to Kíli’s surprise. “He was a good man, and I do not know what happened to him.”

He looked Tauriel up and down.

“And Orcs setting such an elaborate trap, for any poor traveller or you specifically… either way, I don’t like this. Orcs can obscure their presence; they do not alter their shape this convincingly. If they are after you I wouldn’t count on you being able to defend yourself.”

Tauriel’s hand squeezed Kíli’s a little harder at the word _defend_ , and though it grated him he had to admit that he wouldn’t stand a chance against those creatures a second time.

Dwalin stood up and walked around the table slowly; stopping at the window to look into to mass of clouds they still were flying through.

“We won’t reach a real port for a long while yet. Stay on the Wind Dancer until then, unless you insist on wandering the wilds. I don’t know what you want in Arda, but no Orc will take a step on the Wind Dancer and survive the attempt.”

He threw a look at Nori.

“See that they have clothes and a spot to sleep for now,” he said.

“That’s it?” Kíli blurted out. “You accuse us of being spies and thieves and then you just let us stay on your ship?”

Dwalin raised his eyebrows at that.

“I will not put my ship under any possible risk,” he said, “nor will I just abandon someone who nearly got burned alive by a bunch of Orcs to their fate.”

Kíli glanced at Tauriel who was frowning, but she gave him the tiniest nod and truly, what did they have to lose?

“Thank you,” he started, but Dwalin just waved him off with a slight shake of his head. "We are not a passenger ship, so you will be expected to help on board in some way during your stay," he added. "But no harm will come to you here, you have my word."

“Nori,” he reminded his first mate, and the man slipped out of the room to go carry out the orders.

*

It didn’t take long for Nori to return with a few spare clothes for Kíli, so he wouldn’t need to sleep in a wet shirt. There were also bedrolls as there wasn’t a proper sleeping place for the two of them yet, but Tauriel didn’t mind.

Nori had put away his knife again as he explained to Kíli about the items of clothes he had found, not knowing what would fit him. Now that he wasn’t trying to threaten them Tauriel thought that he was a good first mate, reacting to new situations quickly and following the Captain’s orders with barely more than a quick eye roll.

Both he and Dwalin had watched her with a speculative look in their eye, and she couldn’t fault them for it. She did stand out with the clothes she wore, and barely explaining who she was besides saying that she wasn’t used to interacting with many people. As long as they didn’t suspect that she was a star it didn’t bother her all that much.

Once Kíli was kitted out with something to sleep in Nori turned to Tauriel.

“You already have a nightgown, but let’s see about finding something else for you.”

He motioned her to follow, and Kíli, who had just taken off his damp shirt, glared.

“Wait a second, I’ll come with you,” he quickly suggested, and Tauriel knew that even with their assured protection, he didn't trust anyone with her safety; there was nothing either of them could do for the other while separated.

Nori raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Your worry does you credit, loverboy, but I'm not going to wait around for you all night,” he said and steered Tauriel out of the Captain’s room before Kíli could say another word.

Nori let go of Tauriel’s elbow as he led her down the corridor, further into the depth of the ship.

“Did you have any weapons?” he asked as he approached one of the two remaining doors. “When the Orcs attacked you?”

“No,” Tauriel admitted, “I've never held a weapon, though I've...studied them with interest. I did kick an Orc down the stairs but that was luck.”

Nori laughed as he opened one of the doors and led her into a room too dim to make out anything in it, and Tauriel was too tired to try. She could hear the rumble of Dwalin's voice as he spoke with Kili close by, though she couldn't make out the words.

“Kicking an Orc takes a lot of strength. You have it, and some elegance as well, despite not being used to a ship’s movement.”

Nori guided her to what seemed to be yet another door.

“I should give you something to train with as well, a weapon in your hand can be incredibly reassuring.”

Tauriel heard the sound of metal on wood and the squeak of a turning knob as Nori fiddled with a lamp. A weapon just for her? It would be reassuring, Tauriel supposed, and she was certain that if she weren't so tired she'd have leapt at Nori's offer with enthusiasm. As it was, the spark of interest was lost somewhere in the foggy tendrils of exhaustion creeping into her mind.

Finally Nori lit a light, illuminating a narrow room in front of them. There were chests inside, and some shirts lying on those, along with a tall mirror and curtains obscuring the content of shelves. It was a walk-in wardrobe, Tauriel realized as she tried to contain her curiosity.

Nori placed the lamp on one of the chests and gave Tauriel another look.

“I am sure I have something your size,” he muttered to himself and looked around the wardrobe. “Ah yes.”

He pulled one of the curtains aside, and though his body blocked most of it from her view Tauriel saw the edges of lace and silk and heavy coats. It didn’t take long for Nori to pull out items from this place or that, mostly from the chests which were filled with a mess of clothes.

“These never suited anyone but were too nice to throw away. This was Mirra’s at one point, and this belongs to Sigrid but she never got to wear it. I think this one’s a bit too large but for sleep it’s just right.”

He handed Tauriel pants and a few shirts along with a leather vest and socks.

“Don’t have underwear or anything, but I’m not going to wake Mirra to go look in her stash of unused things either. Tomorrow maybe.”

Nori took a step back when he was done.

“There. Try on these pants, and this too, it should be fine to sleep in.”

Tauriel stared at the clothes he’d handed to her, feeling the material that was more rough than any part of her dress, but still nice to the touch.

“Here, you can have a screen,” Nori added and tugged at a folded up thing that had stood in the corner, to create a barrier for Tauriel to hide behind. “I’ll wait here.”

Once hidden, she dropped the wet nightgown and the robe on the floor and started trying on what Nori had picked for her. The bloomers were in the way so she simply ripped off excess material, the sound of which made Nori chuckle. In the end the pants were a little loose in some places and a bit short, but still comfortable to wear. The shirt was warmer than the cold wet clothes as well, and all in all Tauriel was pleased with finally having something proper to wear again.

“Done.”

“See, much better,” Nori commented as she stepped out from behind the screen again. His back was still turned to her as he leaned against the doorframe, but he glanced back as Tauriel spoke.

He gave Tauriel a crooked smile and she thought that it did look real, even if Nori seemed to downplay any sincerity.

He extinguished the lamp’s light and led Tauriel through the dark of the ship’s interior and outside briefly, just to lead her back to the storage room they’d been locked up in earlier. Now there was a lamp as well, and Kíli sat on the floor with a worried frown and two bedrolls in front of him. He perked up when he saw Tauriel enter with a reassuring smile, though he still squinted at Nori in suspicion.

“You can sleep here for as long as you want. The crew won’t be up early either, I think. Lazy lot…”

Nori shrugged and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. There was no sound of a lock being closed, and then they were alone.

Tauriel sighed and let herself sink on the bedroll. It was hard and not nearly as bouncy or warm as the bed at the inn, but now it just seemed incredibly comforting to her. 

“What do we do now?” Kíli asked, frowning a little.

“We sleep,” Tauriel suggested, but Kíli was still frowning as he lay down. “And we will see what we can do tomorrow. I’m sure things will seem better once we’re rested.”

She dimmed the light of the lamp and in the dark reached out to hold Kíli’s hand.

“We are together. That’s all that matters.”

She heard a soft huff from Kíli as he smiled and squeezed her hand back.

“Yes,” he agreed.

The darkness and motion of the ship was comforting, and holding each other’s hands they slowly drifted off to sleep.


	26. The Sky Ship

Tauriel awoke in an unfamiliar dim room on hard even ground. She stretched and blinked up at the ceiling, trying to place all the sensations she wasn’t used to. She had not slept inside a room like that before, and the bedroll she was in was comfortable enough but strange as she had not slept in one like that before, along with the clothes that were so different from the dress that she had fallen in, probably lost to the flames of the burning inn.

When Tauriel turned her head to the side she saw the barrels and stored away things, which looked very different without a lamp. The door was still closed and bright sunlight shone in through the cracks, illuminating a little of the place. At her side Kíli was still fast asleep, curled up in his own bedroll with his mouth slightly open and snoring softly.

His hair was longer and shaggier than when they had first met, Tauriel realized, and the slight stubble on his soft cheeks had darkened. He looked unharmed, the only visible evidence of the last night’s events being the wildness of his hair; its curls and tangles were attributed to fire, flight and storm rather than sleep, and he had not bothered to finger-comb it before exhaustion had overcome him.

There was not much time to contemplate on what they had survived against all odds, as a soft knock on the door distracted Tauriel from watching her friend.

“Yes?” she asked, unsure of what was expected of her. She did get up from her bedroll just in case.

The door opened just a crack, and then a little more when the person on the other end made sure that it was alright to enter. The girl who stood in the doorway was young, just slightly older than Kíli from her looks, and she wore belts over her woollen vest and short dress, like most of the crewmembers Tauriel had seen in the dark of the stormy night. Her hair was tied in a neat braid and scarf, and she held a small bucket in one arm. Behind her Tauriel could see a clear blue sky, though she was not sure how early in the day it was.

“If you want to get up now, here’s some water and towels,” she said, watching Tauriel as if she was not quite sure what to make of the stranger.

Tauriel looked back at Kíli who was dozing so peacefully, and then at what little she could see of the deck behind the girl.

“We don’t have to wake him,” the girl said, opening the door further. “Most of the crew won’t be up anytime soon; the day after a lightning hunt is usually a slow one and those who aren't on the pilot shifts sleep in."

Tauriel nodded at that and accepted one of the towels while the girl placed the bucket on one of the barrels. She also produced a bar of soap and a comb out of one of her pockets, and moved aside to let Tauriel take care of washing herself up a bit.

Since she had taken a bath the night before and the rain hadn’t done much but make her freeze Tauriel didn’t take long to get herself in order. She took the time to brush out her hair a little and redo her braids, and she felt much better afterwards.

The girl told Tauriel to leave the things on the barrel so her companion could make use of them once he woke up as well. Then she waved Tauriel along for breakfast, which sounded like a perfect idea after a skipped dinner and the exertions of last night.

“Food can be a little irregular on the Wind Dancer,” the girl told Tauriel as they stepped on deck. “Bombur – that’s our cook – makes sure we all have at least one warm meal a day but especially with lightning getting in the way we have such different shifts that it can get a bit hard to have set breakfast and lunch times.”

She walked them towards the central mast of the ship, where a few baskets stood ready to be plundered by anyone who was up and wanted breakfast. One contained jugs and had a pungent, robust aroma, and, the others were covered by cloth. The girl pulled them back to reveal neat stacks of buns and rolls with sausages inside. It all smelled delicious to Tauriel, but she wasn’t sure if she could just take any of them.

“I am Sigrid by the way,” the girl introduced herself in the pause.

“Tauriel,” Tauriel replied with a smile.

Sigrid returned the smile and gestured at the food.

“Help yourself.”

Tauriel didn’t need to be told twice. She reached for the rolls first, finding them to be soft and still warm from the oven. There was a nice savoury sausage baked inside, tasty enough to reach for another. The buns had been sliced open, with butter, cheese and a little lettuce inside as well. As Tauriel ate, Sigrid also snacked on one of the rolls and filled a cup from one of the jugs. The liquid inside was hot and black, and though it was unexpectedly bitter Tauriel found she liked the taste and finished the drink.

"You arrived on a good day," said Sigrid, pulling apart a bread roll. "Bombur always bakes fresh the morning after a successful hunt."

Once Tauriel had eaten enough to soothe her hunger she paid more attention to her surroundings. The ship’s deck was near deserted it seemed; somewhere up a few stairs on another deck she could spy somebody moving around but the angle was bad to see, and up on the crow’s nest somebody’s legs were dangling in the air. The ship now lacked the nets Tauriel was sure she'd seen in the flashes of lightning, and most of the crew was most likely asleep belowdecks.

Sigrid was watching Tauriel curiously as she sipped on her own cup, but she waited for Tauriel to finish with her breakfast before interrupting.

“Is it true that you actually managed to fly on a _glider_? To crash into our ship?” she blurted, at the same time Tauriel said, "I'm sure you have questions." They both looked at each other before giggling.

Tauriel shrugged.

“I think it was some involuntary magic. Really, I have no idea how we ended up here but we were told that it shouldn’t have been possible.”

Sigrid nodded and glanced around before shifting closer, the interest in her eyes intense now.

“And Orcs? Is that true?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how we ended up in _that_ situation either.”

“Nobody ever knows why they end up ambushed by Orcs in any specific place,” Sigrid waved off, though she sounded a little wary of it. “How did you get away? Bofur said he couldn't hear-" 

She cut herself off, fingertips over her lips and eyes wide as she looked around nervously. 

"Is the Captain on deck?" She whispered. Tauriel glanced around and shook here head. Sigrid let out a sigh of relief before explaining, "Captain doesn't like evesdroppers. He won't be happy that we all know about you two before he explains the situation himself."

"You _all_ heard?" asked Tauriel with incredulous amusement. 

"Well, those of us who were...um...listening heard the first bit, where you two were on your honeymoon-"

Tauriel coughed, the tips of her ears reddening as she explained, "actually we're not...I just told the Captain that. Didn't matter anyway, he didn't believe us."

"Oh," said Sigrid, sounding a little disappointed. However, she brightened quickly as she remembered her first question.

"So how _did_ you end up here?"

Tauriel told the story gladly, of how she had wanted to see the inn, and of the innkeeper’s kindness, but most of all about how strange the girls there had acted before they turned out to be disguised Orcs. Now the tale sounded ridiculously contrived to Tauriel, but Sigrid listened with a mix of real fear and glee.

“I never heard of Orcs doing this,” she finally said and pulled a face. “Perhaps because nobody got away and lived to tell the tale. How strange that they’re planning such elaborate traps for wanderers.”

Tauriel nodded along, briefly wondering if the Orcs had tried to get to her specifically. But how would they have known that she was anything but a normal girl?

Sigrid shook her head and got up.

“Lucky you ended up on the Wind Dancer of all places,” she said and Tauriel was sure that that much was true.

Unsure of what do, Tauriel got up to follow Sigrid, who moved on towards the other end of the ship. The way led them along the ship’s rail, close enough for Tauriel to glance down.

“Oh!”

She froze in place, hands on the rail and leaned forward to see. Clouds stretched on in every direction, big patches of soft-looking masses, bright in the light of the sun that had only now risen above the cloud level. It looked so much different from what Tauriel had seen at night when she still was firmly positioned among the other stars. And further down, the sea of clouds broke open to reveal fields and forests below.

Tauriel didn’t realize how long she just stood there, staring, until Sigrid finally stepped next to her to watch the world below as well.

“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Tauriel nodded sheepishly but Sigrid smiled as she looked down.

“I was the same when I first took a ride on the Wind Dancer. I grew up near a Lake, and I had never been high up, let alone in the sky before.”

They watched the world move below slowly, as the ship’s sails weren’t fully raised. It was a peaceful sight, easing any remaining tension away as Tauriel truly felt safe after the events of the last night again.

Finally they were interrupted by the sound of clanking metal. Sigrid didn’t seem to be surprised by the sound, but Tauriel looked around trying to place it.

“Want to see what we catch lightning with?” Sigrid asked as she noticed.

“Of course!”

There were stairs leading down into the ship, and only a few steps down on a little platform two men were tinkering with curious looking machines. 

The strange machines looked a little bit like metal ovens with too many wires and gears. Each had three thick metal ropes leading into the darkness of the ship’s interior. One of the metal things had the top removed, so that the two crewmembers could work on the insides.

“These are Bifur and his son Lifur. They’re maintaining the nets for the next catch.”

Bifur was one of the men Tauriel already knew, with a small chunk of metal protruding from his scarred forehead. He didn’t look as intimidating now as he had the night before, weaponless and wearing only a simple shirt as he cleaned the gears with grease-covered hands. Besides him Lifur did the same; he did not look to be much older than Sigrid either, and though his skin was dark he had the same wild messy hair as his father, albeit without the grey streaking it.

They looked up as the girls approached and Lifur grinned as he waved with a dirty rag.

“Morning, morning!” he called as Bifur returned to his work without a comment.

Sigrid climbed down the stairs to sit down besides them but far enough away to not be too close to the disassembled machinery. Tauriel followed her example and looked over the machine curiously.

“Just needs a bit of cleaning, nothing broken,” Lifur went on as soon as they did so. “Captain Dwalin will be glad to hear we don’t need to replace anything yet.”

He moved back to fumble inside until there was another metal clang and he pulled out more of the machine’s inner life to lay out with the bits that weren’t cleaned up yet. Then he glanced at Tauriel with shining eyes.

“Is it true that you ended up on the Wind Dancer with your glider breaking apart under you?” he asked with an excited tone.

Bifur grunted and nudged him with his boot, but Lifur didn’t let that dissuade him. He looked at Tauriel expectantly while Sigrid shook her head a little.

“Well, it wasn’t breaking apart while we were still in the air…” Tauriel started, and Lifur shook his head again, a little disappointed.

“Why is everything interesting happening when I’m not on shift?” he lamented and Tauriel laughed.

“We’ll make sure to crash-land when you are there to see the next time.”

Now it was Lifur’s turn to laugh, and he shook his head.

Sigrid and Tauriel watched them work for a little while before Bifur’s boot nudged against Tauriel’s. She looked to see him gesturing at her moving his hands in a strange way. She wasn’t sure what it meant before Sigrid explained.

“Bifur doesn’t speak with words but he uses signs to talk. He just asked you if you want to lend a hand in getting the gear clean.”

Tauriel looked from her to the gears to Bifur.

“Sure, I’d love to be of help,” she said, and Bifur nodded, pleased. 

Lifur handed them a bucket and clean rags, and Sigrid and Tauriel set to carefully washing the greasy metal until it was clean again. Lifur chatted on as they did so, asking about the places Tauriel had seen but mostly explaining about the machines his family helped maintain. After a while Sigrid nudged Tauriel to point over to the deck. Tauriel couldn’t see all of it, but she spotted Kíli looking around with a lost and nervous expression. He was wearing a shirt that was evidently from the selection the Captain had lent him; it was slightly too big for him, and despite the crisp air he wasn't wearing a weskit or coat.

He still looked nervous as she called his name and waved him over, but he warmed up as Lifur started to chat in his direction as well. Kíli received a rag as well and helped with the cleaning.

“Are you alright?” Tauriel asked him in a moment the others were distracted by their conversation, and Kíli nodded firmly.

“I just wasn’t sure what to make of this situation when I woke up.”

The worked on as the sun rose high through the sky and more and more people started waking up. Crewmembers passed by on their way back and forth and some stopped to chat, though never for long. Tauriel was quite sure that she received more than one curious glance, but none asked her or Kíli more questions.

A portly man with a shock of bright ginger hair brought them a basket of more steamy sausage rolls, apologizing for not having a proper lunch for them. Sigrid and Lifur thanked the cook, gushing over how much they loved the rolls. Bombur seemed very pleased about that.

“It doesn’t make sense to have a big lunch if everyone’s still half asleep,” he excused the food. “Even the Captain and Nori are still not out.”

He moved on to return to his kitchen, leaving Tauriel to wonder when the Captain would return. Kíli did not seem to care, too busy devouring the rolls, which was an understandable priority. 

When all the gears were cleaned Lifur and Bifur assembled the machine's interior back into shape and oiled them up a little. As Bifur carried them away Sigrid went to fetch more of the bitter drink for them to share. Lifur and Kíli started a conversation about different metals, leaning against some barrels as they spoke. Tauriel listened, though she didn’t understand much of it, and enjoyed the taste of the warm drink. Kíli tried some of it but started coughing at its unexpected potency. Lifur, in between restrained snickers of laughter, advised him to pour cream into it to lessen the overwhelming flavour, which gave it a nut brown shade and seemed to suit Kíli’s tastes more.

Tauriel watched the crew and after a while Sigrid said that she would go help Bombur in the kitchen. More crewmembers moved around and unfurled the sails fully which sped up the ship and increased the wind that had barely been noticeable in the early morning. Dwalin stood on the deck above now, taking care of changing the course as he saw fit.

A man Tauriel hadn’t seen before approached after a while. His clothes were a little askew, as were the goggles hanging around his neck, and he had a long drooping moustache that curled up cheerily at the ends. He wore a large fur-lined hat with flaps that covered his ears, and Tauriel wondered whether it wouldn't be blown off by the rough wind. She briefly wondered whether he had been one of the crewmembers who’d caught them in the storm.

“Alright there, chaps?” he asked and Lifur grinned at him.

“That’s my uncle Bofur,” he told Kíli and Tauriel. “Well, he’s my Da’s cousin, but he’s really more the uncle with a bad influence on us.”

Bofur grinned as he approached, affectionately ruffling Lifur’s hair.

“Up to screwing up people opinion on me, eh?”

He had dimples when he laughed and he turned to take in Kíli and Tauriel.

“You two look much better now, rather than waterlogged kittens.”

“You were there yesterday?” Kíli asked, a little surprised. He hadn’t been sure of who he’d seen before either.

“Of course I was. Helped pull you in before you ripped a hole into our precious lightning nets!”

He laughed merrily and leaned closer.

“And what a sight that was. Here we were, catching lighting and going on about our business (as the honest folk we are) when suddenly a _mysterious shape_ appears. Could be a flock of birds, though what sensible bird flies right into a storm and with so many at once, could be something bigger and dangerous. Our first mate told us to deal with it and see what it could possibly be. We were all wondering and if it weren’t so loud we would have placed bets on what we fished out of the sky. Don’t think anyone expected it to be a tiny glider though.”

Kíli glanced at Tauriel who just grinned and shrugged.

“We weren’t expecting this either.”

Bofur nodded.

“Wouldn’t imagine anyone would _want_ to fly like this.”

He looked back over the deck and then glanced at the two.

“So, how do you like the ship so far?”

“It’s amazing,” Tauriel said, just as Kíli added, “Overwhelming.”

“Ah, both is true,” Bofur replied, “but it’s easy to get used to us, we’re like one big family over here.”

He leaned over to Kíli to put an arm around his shoulder, and though Kíli looked startled for a moment he didn’t pull away and listened to Bofur.

“Literally a family in some cases. Take that lass with the curls, for instance. That’s my little niece Borra, Bombur’s daughter. And over there’s Glóin, I think you know him already? Pretends to be tougher than he is in his sappy heart.”

He pointed at the people working around them and briefly explained who they were as Kíli and Tauriel tried to remember.

“The one with the grey hair: our healer, Óin, he’ll take care of any injury and sickness. Very nearly deaf but knows every piece of gossip aboard.”

A slight figure had been skirting Bofur silently and before Bofur could say another word Nori stood flush against him, one arm hooked around his throat.

“Aye, and he’s not the only one, is he? How come the entire ship knows every detail of yesterday night already, Bofur?”

The first mate’s eyes narrowed and he had a sharp smile on his face. Kíli froze but Bofur laughed and let go of him to turn and face Nori.

“’S not my fault. How can you keep the presence of these two secret? How would you explain it?”

Nori rolled his eyes.

“So you took that terrible task upon yourself. I ought to hang you off the keel for that.”

Bofur was still laughing about it, and Lifur grinned as well. It seemed a strange kind of joke to Tauriel, so she hid her smile. Nori waved them both off before he turned to Kíli and Tauriel.

“I hope you didn’t get sky-sick today. Or anytime soon, there’s some days of travel before us still. But since Bombur is about to have dinner ready I doubt it’ll happen. Nobody wants to be sick when he cooks, it’s too good to waste.”

Nori grinned at the thought but Kíli pressed his lips together as he watched him warily.

Whatever he thought about the first mate didn’t matter anymore when the crew started cheering. They turned to see Bombur carrying out a giant pot of something delicious-smelling, and behind him a young girl with a neatly tied ginger bun carried a basket. The crew gathered around them as the food was set out, and the girl pulled bowls out of the basket along with a big loaf of bread. Bombur filled the bowls with a thick broth and handed them off to the crewmembers.

Nori motioned for Kíli and Tauriel to come along, and they too received a bowl of warm food. None of the other crewmembers seemed to be bothered by two more people in their midst, some looked on curiously, but nobody commented as everyone chatted and sat down in random places. Nori took two bowls and disappeared up to the upper deck but otherwise everyone just sat down where it was comfortable.

Kíli and Tauriel leaned against the rail, a little apart from the crew. It was nice like this, and the breeze made Tauriel think of how they truly were high up in the sky. The first evening stars had begun to glitter above them, and the sight of them tugged at Tauriel's heart. The food was tasty and filling, and though Tauriel felt tired from last night she was also completely at ease.

“It could have been much worse,” Kíli said, looking over the crew laughing and chatting as they ate.

"Hmm," hummed Tauriel thoughtfully, "I suppose between this and being captured by Orcs, this is certainly the slightly less terrible outcome." A smile quirked the corner of her mouth as she glanced at Kili. Kili rolled his eyes and looked down, grinning despite himself.  
"Ok, ok, it's not half bad here," he admitted, glancing at the crew again.

“I like it here,” Tauriel admitted, thinking of how kind and interesting the people she’d met were.

Kíli looked uncertain but he nodded at that. 

“Don’t you think it’s unnatural that a ship… that it’s just in the _sky_?”

Tauriel tore her eyes from the crew and glanced at Kíli. 

“I’m a _star_ , Kíli.”

His cheeks flushed read and he nodded sheepishly. 

“Not the strangest thing I’ve seen.”

“Not half as strange as Orcs in dresses.”

They both had to giggle at the thought. Even through the unease and the fear, that didn’t cease to be ridiculous. 

After a bit Kíli shook his head again. 

“I just don’t like the idea of being up in the air with _nothing_ between us and the ground. Ships aren’t meant to fly, are they? And I’m certainly not meant for it either.”

"Well," said Tauriel, "we'll dock in a few days, I've heard, and then we can travel on foot again." She nudged his shoulder with hers. "Not everyone is suited for the sky. It never really occurred to me."

Kíli leaned against her, the contact between them comforting. 

"It's strange, though," Tauriel continued pensively, gazing up at the sky. "This is the closest to home I've ever felt in _weeks_. But it's not the same. I feel different now."

"...Bad different?" Prompted Kíli cautiously, as Tauriel didn't elaborate. She cocked her head to the side thoughtfully.

"It's difficult to explain..." she started, but as Kíli seemed to deflate a little she wrapped an arm around his shoulder tentatively. Kíli stilled and Tauriel was about to pull away when Kíli relaxed into her embrace slightly. 

"If I were still up there I wouldn't be able to do this," she said with a small smile. "and I think that this is...rather nice. It’s _exciting_. I’ve seen so much and even if things were dangerous I ended up talking to people and getting to know everything I wasn’t able to still up with the others."

"It...it is, yeah," said Kíli, and she could hear the surprised smile in his voice. She thought about Ned then, and hoped that the boy would make Kíli feel safe in uncertain times.

Kíli leaned his head against her shoulder gently, and Tauriel rested her cheek against his hair, looking up at the stars as their temporary home made its way into the night.


	27. Arda From Above

Ash and dust puffed up in tiny clouds beneath a pair of worn travelling boots. The remaining beams of wood creaked precariously as Fíli carefully made his way through the ruin of the large building. Nothing remained but some broken walls and the foundations; the great heat had even cracked most of the stone inside. He had heard of it as he followed his rune stones, hoping to finally be able to grasp what his family had been searching for, only to have the runes tell him that it was out of reach again.

They had been told of the great fire when Fíli had passed the nearby town and had stopped to let his horses and guards rest. It had been an abandoned inn, with no residents, but it had seemed strange for it to burn like this. There was nothing to be gained from it, but Fíli still felt as if the Arkenstone might have been there. The runes telling him that the Arkenstone was out of reach coincided with the fire, so perhaps there was some clue to be found.

None of them had expected to find Orcs in the ash, but two charred bodies were uncovered still.

“They seem to have burned with the building,” one of the guards who’d found them said, one hand on his sword and the other over his mouth and nose to keep himself from inhaling ash.

It was strange for Orcs to be so close to villages with no reports of ambushes, and even stranger to have them in this area of Erebor’s kingdom. It was supposed to be safe after all, and how could those creatures have slipped past the defences? How could they have done so without attacking and rampaging and causing the destruction they so liked to do when they did get the chance?

“What could have caused this?” Imór asked, scanning the area with a furrowed brow.

She would worry that the danger was still there, of course, but Fíli was confident that whatever had caused this was already gone. He looked through the ash for anything they’d overlooked, more Orcs, or maybe something that wasn’t an Orc.

A metallic glint caught his attention and he moved towards it, the charred wood under his feet breaking and making him slide further down. He didn’t lose his balance though he heard Imór’s concerned warning to not go there. Still, Fíli reached the glint and pushed at what looked like the remains of a staircase aside to see.

It was a sword, dirty and soiled by ash but not damaged by the fire otherwise. A good make, Fíli could tell; the sharp-edged blade shone (once Fili had wiped the dirt away with his sleeve), and the hilt was carved with runes and decorative patterns, simple enough not to impair the functionality of the piece but elaborate enough to mark it as the sword of a noble, or at least someone very rich. Fíli turned it in his hand, squinting at its make. He had a good eye for these things, and he was certain that this was an Ereborean style, at least a few decades old.

There was no sign of a scabbard or even the owner of the sword in the ash, even after Fíli called for some guards to help him look. In the end he concluded that the owner had either been carried away or had lost the sword as they fled.

“I’ll keep this,” Fíli told Imór who nodded and called for somebody to see if they had a spare scabbard to allow him to carry it safely. It was too good a sword to leave unused, Fíli supposed, and though he already had his own, he’d favoured wielding two at once in his training.

“I have to let my uncle know,” Fíli muttered as he looked back to where the Orcs were hidden by the debris. If these Orcs had grown so bold, Thorin would have to be warned so he could prepare should things grow worse. It hadn’t been so bad in the past fifteen years, but Fíli remembered the constant gathering of soldiers to hunt down the Orcs and Goblins who terrorized their people. Best not to repeat that experience.

One of the ponies had a few raven cages fastened to it, so Fíli asked for one of the birds’ assistance. One of the younger ones hopped on his shoulder and patiently waited for Fíli to write a short message for her to carry back to the King.

“You have heard what we talked of earlier?” Fíli asked her and the Raven nodded. “Please bring this to Thorin and tell him of what we found.”

He fastened the message in a little pouch on the Raven’s leg and then there was a brief pressure of her claws against his shoulder before she took off into the clear blue sky.

“What are we going to do next?” one of the guards asked as Fíli continued to watch the Raven.

The prince’s hand moved to the little leather pouch on his belt, containing the runes that had shown him such strange answers lately. He could not rely on them anymore, for now. Instead he needed a slightly more old-fashioned way to find what he needed, and travel fast and safe at that.

He smiled as he thought of the little dock on the outskirts of Belegost.

“I think I will require the use of a ship.”

*

Kíli’s fingers clutched at on the rough ropes as he pulled himself further up along the rigging. His palms were sweaty and his heart was beating too hard in his chest, the pulse pounding even in his ears and cheeks.

‘ _Just don’t look down_ ’ he told himself over and over, biting his lip to keep himself from actually saying these words out loud.

It had been the best advice yet, given to him by Sigrid. Most of the crew had shrugged when Kíli nervously asked about the dangers of a ship flying high in above the ground; they were already so used to it that they hardly minded anymore. When Tauriel and he had dinner with the Captain and his first mate, Kíli had tried to not seem nervous about the unnatural height but had let his worries slip anyway.

“You don’t _have_ to do any work that makes you look down or has you thinking you’ll fall,” Nori had promised, addressing the both of them.

He said it in a friendly tone, and he had already listed the work inexperienced people could do just as easily, but perhaps Kíli had grown used to imagining belittlement in the man’s voice. He was never sure when Nori meant things as a joke and when he didn’t. Besides, he did not want to seem even a little cowardly in front of Dwalin, who was quite an admirable captain.

And so Kíli had ended up being asked whether he could climb up to the highest point of the ship and take a watch in the crow’s nest. Truly, he should have swallowed his pride and not agreed to the task as cheerfully as he had.

It was the same pride that made him take a brief break to steady his breath and firmly keep his eyes up to climb on up to the very top.

Bofur was there, leaning back against the wooden rail of the crow’s nest when Kíli finally climbed through the small opening and onto more solid ground, doing his best to control his harsh breathing.

“First time up high, you made it,” Bofur cheered for him, and it did not sound unkindly even to Kíli’s roughed-up pride.

“Ah, ‘s nothing,” he said and waved it off, giving the man a crooked smile.

Bofur shrugged and turned back to the open sky.

“Most people are afraid on their first flight. I don’t remember being too nervous but the first time up over everyone isn’t the most reassuring thing.”

Kíli clung to one of the rails, out of Bofur’s sight and looked straight ahead. It did not seem as if he was higher than on a mountain peak this way, as long as he didn’t glance down. He steadied his breathing and only then did he dare look below to the deck. In between the ropes and masts it did not seem to bad, but below, miles further down Kíli could see the ground and his heart clenched.

Bofur chuckled behind him and patted his shoulder.

“Relax lad, nothing can happen to you. If it makes you feel any better, falling off a crow’s nest at sea would be as deadly as falling here; you might break your neck and you wouldn’t even get to fall very far.”

It did not relax Kíli at all to hear that but Bofur handed him a flask and shook his head.

“You will grow used to it. Or leave this ship in a few days, whatever happens first.”

Kíli opened the flask with shaky fingers and took a small sip, already aware of the strong and sharp tasting booze Bofur often handed out randomly. The burn in his throat distracted him though and he returned the flask. They sat quietly and looked ahead without a word until Kíli felt brave enough to scoot closer to the edge of the rail and look down and around at the scenery.

“What exactly are we watching for?”

“Oh anything out of the norm really. Other ships. Strange flying creatures where there shouldn’t be any. Things going on down on the ground…”

Kíli relaxed gradually as he got used to the altitude, and slowly he started to enjoy the view. He’d never minded being too high up, but generally there was something under his feet or he had made the climb on his own, without a strange ship to carry him. He had never thought to see the world, not even his own, stretched out like this.

“I think I do like it,” Kíli admitted after a while, and Bofur nodded.

“Told you. Now, if you don’t mind I’ll keep you company. I don’t think there’ll be anything to spot and ring the alarm, but if I go down Bombur will make me help him. And I don’t fancy peeling potatoes now.”

Bofur took a gulp from his flask and pulled his hat over his eyes as he relaxed with a content sigh.

“And don’t tell Nori if he asks,” he told Kíli.

Kíli glanced down where there weren’t as many crewmembers on deck. Nori leaned against the rail, knives in his hand as he spoke, the wind dragging his long braid along like a banner. He was watching Tauriel, who stood only a few feet away. There were knives in her hands as well, and she moved slowly, carefully from position to position so that it looked like a very slow dance. Her hair had been braided along the sides of her head to keep it out of her eyes, and her oversized shirt was secured around her middle by a belt, which stopped the fabric from billowing in the breeze.

Nori had offered her to teach her how to use knives, claiming she needed to know how to fight with more than strength and dumb luck. He had found her a pair of knives out of one of the chests in the storage rooms, beautiful things that looked quite precious and reaffirmed Kíli’s idea that the Wind Dancer was a pirate ship. Insisting that he had no use for them but that they would suit Tauriel’s hands better, Nori had gifted them to her, and now he was teaching her basic techniques.

It made Kíli uncomfortable to say the least.

Who knew what a man like Nori would do if he found out that Tauriel was a star? Or if he saw any kind of profit to be made from her, whatever that could be. Even without people _knowing_ , Tauriel stood out, though so far nobody had commented on her curious behaviour, and while pointed ears seemed to not be uncommon in Arda, she had the only pair aboard the ship. Kíli didn’t know what he could do should Nori try anything, and the Captain surely would not hear a word against his first mate without proof. 

For the rest of the shift Kíli tried not to look down on them too often. Nori wouldn’t do anything with so many crewmembers around, would he now?

Time passed and eventually Bofur woke from his nap and told Kíli that he could return to more solid ground and that he’d take care of the rest of the watch. It was harder to climb down without looking at how high up he was but at least Kíli wasn’t as nervous after so long of being in the crow’s nest.

Nori wasn’t on deck anymore and Tauriel was speaking to Sigrid and Mirra, an older woman among the crew, part of it for as long as the Wind Dancer had travelled the sky. Usually she wore her big curly hair tied back with a red handkerchief but today it was braided tight around her head in a crown.

“Oh there you are,” Mirra called, smiling.

Tauriel smiled as well; glad to see Kíli after nearly an entire day of helping out on different parts of the ship. She had made friends with the two women beside her, and Kíli got along with many of the sailors, so it never got lonely at least.

“Listen, Bombur needs some help in the kitchen, and he can’t find Bofur anywhere. Could you and Tauriel help him out while I go find that slacker?”

Kíli glanced at Tauriel, thinking of Bofur who was hiding up above everyone else and of the potatoes he was escaping from.

“Sure,” he said anyway and Tauriel nodded. Mirra smiled, her cheeks dimpling.

Sigrid quickly excused herself to return to her own work before Mirra could try and ask for to come along as well, and Tauriel led Kíli on towards the galley.

Bombur was already busy inside the heated little room, cooking and watching over stew as his daughter chopped the ingredients they needed.

“Ah there you are, please, over there,” the usually so shy man ordered, and herded the two towards a corner as soon as he had spotted them. “These _really_ need to start getting done now.”

There was a big bucket full of potatoes, and another two to drop peelings or cleaned up vegetables into. It wasn’t too much, Kíli supposed as Bombur handed them knives before returning to his own work, and with Tauriel’s help it would be fine. Besides, though it was a little loud with the boiling stew they also could chat.

They sat across from each other and quickly worked on the potatoes, telling each other of their day. They didn’t sleep in the same place now; they had been relocated to the crew's sleeping quarters and given hammocks, though there had not been space to put them both together. Still, they saw each other during the day and Kíli didn’t mind too much.

Tauriel spoke with enthusiasm about her new knives, and of how she had helped Sigrid patch some ropes earlier, and Kíli told her that he had been high up on the crow’s nest. He even whispered about Bofur when he was sure Bombur wouldn’t hear, and Tauriel giggled at it.

“I think I will miss this ship once we return to wandering,” Tauriel said as she fished another potato out of the stack. “It’s quite nice to have a sense of purpose.”

Kíli’s entire body was sore from the work and his hands ached a little from climbing on ropes; the height still made him nervous, but he found himself agreeing. The crew was kind and friendly and he was even growing to like the Wind Dancer as a vessel.

“We still have a few days and then we’ll return to wandering Arda like we did before,” he said and put a freshly peeled potato on the pile.

Tauriel nodded and they worked on quietly for a while, as Kíli wondered what it would be like to see all of Arda like he planned, but from above.

The potatoes were soon cleaned and cut and added to the stew. Kíli and Tauriel stayed in the galley anyway, even when Bombur told them they were free to go. Eager for new helpers, Borra shoved a basket into their hands and told them to fill it with dishes for the crew.

The sky was already turning orange and pink by the time they helped Bombur carry out the food for the crew. Everyone got their bowl and sat down where they wanted to eat, as usual, and Kíli and Tauriel joined in. 

Nori and Dwalin had joined the crew as well, both of them leaning against one of the masts as they ate their stew. They weren’t too far from Kíli and Tauriel where they sat, and after a while Dwalin turned to look at them.

“We’ll reach a port soon enough,” he told them, “two days if the winds don’t cause trouble. You can resume your travels from there if you want.”

Nori kept his attention on his stew as he nodded. 

“It’s just a small settlement but perfect for selling lightning in this area.”

Kíli and Tauriel glanced at one another. They had nowhere to go really, and though he missed walking on solid ground, Kíli also didn’t know if he wanted to be around tiny settlements and nothing but forests anymore. 

“Do we have to leave?” Tauriel asked, and both Dwalin and Nori turned to look at her. “I mean, staying and helping for just a little longer would be… um… practical, at least until we find a proper city where we can find proper provisions?” she added quickly. 

They waited with bated breath as Nori looked over to Dwalin with a raised eyebrow, until the Captain finally shrugged. 

"Well who am I to kick a couple of kids off my ship if they've worked like the rest of us? You can stay, of course."

Tauriel smiled in gratitude as Kíli shivered at the thought of being so close to an abyss over the ground. Still, he liked the Wind Dancer and he was glad that they could stay, even if it was only for a little while longer.


	28. Interlude: Lady Blackbird

Of all the bad and reckless choices Philip had made as a young lad, crossing the Wall into a different world surely was the worst. Mostly because it was a ridiculous and unnecessary thing for a good and quiet young man to do. _He had a good career prospect and a future_ he had been assured by many, rarely participated in pranks, and had become quite popular with the town's older ladies for his good manners, for all that he was training to be a blacksmith. But no, he decided to _cross the Wall into a different world_ , and all that was for naught.

Each little thing he spotted made him move further, deeper into the forests beyond, towards the music and the cheering of markets that were just like at home, but more colourful, wild, magical in their mood. Every day Philip would look towards the direction of the wall, and every day he would walk further.

‘ _Just one day more, just one more village, one more magic creature to spot_ ,’ he told himself each evening as he slept on the soft moss of quiet and peaceful forests after having himself a supper of berries and nuts and the dwindling bread he’d taken with him. He slept, and he knew that he would wander on for as long as he could.

It was a week after Philip first entered the world (which he had discovered was called _Arda_ ), when he met the forest witch.

“This forest is cursed, you know,” said a sweet voice as he tried to climb over old twisted roots that had grown all over the path he was taking (while he had walked along it, which was rather inconvenient) believing himself to be alone.

To his credit, Philip didn’t flinch, though he frantically looked around to find the source of the voice. He found it in a young woman perched daintily upon a large root of a tree, observing his struggles with amusement.

She had long dark hair, adorned with little braids and wilder than any girl back at home would ever wear it. Her long blue dress and vest were decorated with wooden beads and little chains, looking messy as well, compared to what Philip was used to but still in impeccable condition, as if that mess had been deliberate.

“Cursed?” he asked, instead of ‘who are you’, ‘why did you sneak up on me’ or anything else that would have made more sense.

She grinned and hopped down from the tree’s root and walked towards Philip. There was a little bird sitting on her shoulder, a blackbird, and tiny sparrows fluttered up over them, watching. As if they belonged to the witch.

“Yes, see stranger, this forest _knows_ who belongs and who doesn’t. So it searches you out and grabs hold of your heart-“

Philip didn’t move as she approached and now was only a few steps away.

“-and once it has it you it just goes and turns you-“

She smiled, and ran a fingertip over the blackbird on her shoulder.

“-into a bird.”

Philip shuddered at the thought. Much as flight would be an interesting experience he did not want to trade his hands for wings.

“Is there any way to protect me from the curse?” he asked, as the woman laughed.

He liked the sound; she was louder than he’d expected, and though he felt uneasy about the curse he could not help but smile with her.

“What breaks curses?” she asked. “Well, to kiss a witch or a princess or a frog, isn’t that it?”

There were streams and ponds in the forest, Philip was sure of it, so catching a frog wouldn’t be too hard. He was feeling cheeky though.

"I...didn't know kissing witches helped against curses," ventured Philip hesitantly. The dark-haired girl shrugged.  
"It sometimes helps, if the witch feels up to kissing the idiot who got themselves cursed," she replied nonchalantly.

Her eyes twinkled with her smile, and Philip thought that he’d never seen a blue that actually seemed to _shine_ like hers did.

"Are _you_ a witch?" pressed Philip. It couldn't hurt to ask.

“It could be. I suppose you’d have to find out.”

Philip raised his eyebrow. She was playing games with him, whether out of malice or for her amusement. He didn’t feel particularly bothered by it yet, and he found he rather liked talking with her, though she was strange.

“All right, Lady... Blackbird, would you give me a kiss if you are a witch? I wouldn’t like being a bird myself and I can repay you, if you can think of anything I might have that's of use to a witch.”

Her smile widened.

“Then close your eyes.”

Philip’s cheeks heated up as she agreed so lightly. He’d only teased about the kiss, and he suddenly wasn’t sure if he could possibly kiss the mysterious woman of another world. Still, he closed his eyes with his heart pounding hard in his chest, and waited.

It was quick, the tiniest peck on his lips and then she was laughing, just as other voices began to grow louder.

Philip’s eyes flew open and he saw the Lady Blackbird grinning at him with flushes cheeks. Behind her other people had appeared, some in dresses, some in light leather armour, watching on with amusement or exasperation.

“Dís, what are you doing to the poor lad?”

“Princess, please don’t run off like this…”

Philip's mouth hung open in shock.

"You're a _princess_!"

Dís, if that was her name, rolled her eyes and turned to her guards with a groan of exasperation. The blackbird fluttered off her shoulder and up into the trees.

"I was enjoying being someone else, you didn't have to go spoiling it quite so soon, so _thanks_ " she groused, though she sounded merely displeased rather than angry.

"You didn't say you were a princess," complained Philip as Dís faced him again.

"You never asked if I was," she shrugged. 

“Did you really think I was a witch?” she teased then, putting her hand over her heart as if she was offended.

As Philip gawked and spluttered, trying to find the words for a confused apology, she spun on her heel and walked towards her company, reassuring them that she would not run off again. Philip could only stare, frozen in place and his cheeks still burning. He watched them go, but before the company disappeared out of sight the Lady Blackbird turned towards him and leaned her head to the side.

“Do you want to join us?” she asked, "wouldn't want you to get cursed." 

To that there was only one answer…

Philip grinned, and ran to catch up and found a blackbird on his shoulder soon after.

*

Months had passed since the day Dís met a strange young man from another world in the forest. She had travelled far from home and after spending so long as his traveling companion, invited Philip to accompany her home when it was time to return. His nervous surprise at meeting a princess in the forest had been very amusing, as had his fretting over meeting the rest of the royal family (not limited to her brothers, numerous cousins, and King Thrór himself.) Fortunately, they took a liking to him despite his questionable origins, and he easily made friends with Thorin and Dwalin.

As much as she loved having him around though, he was from another world and eventually his thoughts once again returned to his homeland.

“I will come back to visit you again,” he promised when his new friends pouted about the idea of him leaving. 

“A year, maybe a little more, and then I will return to Arda, promise.”

This he emphasised to Dís most of all, and she tried to smile in her support.

The evening before his departure, Philip, Dwalin, and the royal siblings enjoyed each other's company in Dís drawing room. It was always her quarters that they gathered in, though they had forgotten how that tradition had started.

She laughed and drank with the others, but in her heart she felt a strange sorrow. Was this what it felt like to have a silly fancy rejected? Dís knew that she loved Philip more than just a friend, but she had not been sure just how much she did until it was time for him to leave. It wasn’t up to her to keep him from returning home though; she would never be so cruel.

Philip bid her goodnight when the group decided to go to bed, and there seemed to be a little regret in his voice. If so, Dís was determined to show only her facade of contentment.

He left early in the morning and Dís was friendly and joked as always, making him promise that he would stay safe on the road and return to Arda as soon as he was able. He would always be welcome in Erebor’s kingdom at least. 

"There's a song you should hear before you go," she told him. "It's only a silly nursery rhyme, and everybody adds their own verses, but it's good luck for travellers to know it."

"Like a protective spell? Lady Blackbird, you needn't worry about me," smiled Philip.

She shoved at him playfully and corrected, "not a spell. Just...good luck. Do you want to hear it or not?"

When Philip looked at her expectantly, she took a deep breath and recited:

" _Lovely Lady, fly so free_  
_O’er the world above the trees_  
_See the world and have your fun_  
_But please say you’ll return to me,_  
_To me, to me,_  
_Promise you’ll return to me"_

She did not stay to watch him disappear.

Dís could not sleep that night. Her rooms were high up above the city in the high corridors of the castle, so Dís could see far across Erebor’s capital and beyond. Instead of staring in the direction Philip had gone, she looked up at the sickle of the moon and the stars surrounding it. It was chilly so high up so she stood wrapped in a shawl, her fingers idly tugging at the soft material.

It came as a bit of a surprise when somebody knocked on her door. The timid and quiet little sound carried fine through the room, but Dís had no idea what a servant might want at such a time. She was rarely disturbed at such a time, and in case of an emergency the servants would be bolder, or Thorin would be there to fetch her himself.

Dís clutched her shawl harder to prevent it from slipping and went to the door. The charms for luck and security on her wrists did not buzz in danger, so she opened the door without asking who it was. Of all the things she’d expected, being met by Philip’s warm brown eyes wasn’t one of them.

“But why aren’t you on your way to England?” was the first thing she blurted out, just as Philip opened the mouth for a sheepish “Hello.”

“I didn’t feel… it just didn't feel right to go, anymore,” he admitted. He was still wearing his travelling clothes and the cloak Frerin had gifted him. He must have gone up to Dís’ rooms right after arriving back at the castle.

“Why?”

She was happy to see him, of course, more than just a little bit, but Dís also was aware of how homesick he had been. If he wanted to be there, he should be.

In the pale light of the moon and the dim lamps of the corridor it was hard to spot the blush rising on Philip’s cheeks.

“I felt a little homesick, yes… But I think I’d rather be with you… here in Erebor I mean, i-if that’s fine by you?”

Warmth spread in Dís’ chest as she smiled at Philip. She took his hand, soft and so much less calloused than she was used to from her father and brothers.

“I’d love that,” she said, and the smile on Philip’s face was the best sight she had ever laid her eyes on.

*

It was a stupid idea to run into battle, so soon after her second pregnancy. It was foolish and she should be resting, should be with Philip and her children…

They had been quite safe in the little fortress where her Kíli had been born, where Fíli and their father probably had already left…

But she could not stand by…

Her family was getting slaughtered by Orcs, her kingdom was suffering, and Dís was a spell caster trained for battle. She had made Philip promise her to take care of their little infant son, and they had made plans to get Fíli to Lawara, trusted and powerful spell caster. As soon as Kíli could travel Philip would take the few guards they had and leave to safer places where the Orcs hopefully wouldn’t reach them until Dís and reinforcements could come back to their defence.

Foolish.

She might have defeated the Orcs with the warriors around her and her own sword and magic. She might have.

She could not with a dragon targeting her specifically.

The dragon was why they might not survive; the dragon was why the Orcs pushed so hard. The dragon had magic as well.

“Princess,” the cruel voice called as flames surrounded her, the last of what she remembered before it hit her. “Princess, do you think you are a match for me? You’re no more than a tiny songbird trying to take an Eagle!”

The Dragon’s golden eyes were too much, too cruel, and Dís made the mistake of staring into them in defiance. Her mind and body were held by their power, for while the fire and size of a dragon has the advantage physically, it is the gaze that holds power over the mind and magic. 

"But I cannot outright kill a woman of talent, what a waste," Smaug crooned, as if she was bestowing a great favour. 

"No, little bird, I think you should go on a little journey. I'm sure you'll survive the trip. You shall be consumed by a creature so large you won't find its beginning or its end, and you will not walk out of it. There you will despair until you die, chained to its very spirit, and even with all the stars and rocks of this world to guide you, you will never find your way out."

The flames hit Dís and before she even could try and make a barrier to keep herself from burning she was gone from the battlefield, and knew that she was cursed.

*

Dís wanted to resent the wizard at first.

The curse of the dragon Smaug had trapped her in a deep forest, leaving her unable to walk out of it. Fortunately, she was discovered by a strange little man with a rather large wooly hat foraging for mushrooms. His robe was pieced together haphazardly, with mismatched patches and pockets all over his person. He addressed her as if she were a skittish animal, and offered her a mushroom from his wicker carrier basket. Just as she refused, he shoved his basket at her unceremoniously and ran off, blabbering something about misbehaving rabbits, and she had no choice but to run after him or have him lose the basket. 

She ended up staying with him in his strange twisted little hut, which was currently inhabited and elevated by a rather large tree trunk. The wizard himself (Radagast, she learned), did not much care for anything outside the forest he protected.

She wanted to hate him, but Radagast was nothing but kind to his assistant, seemingly unaware of any kind of curse or how she wished to leave more than anything. The curse chained Dís to Radagast (metaphorically, Dís was relieved to find, she didn't think she could stand running after him all day) and Radagast would not leave the forest. He was kind and he took care of the animals around him, and Dís could not direct her frustration at him.

Radagast treated Dís no differently from the animals around him, which wasn’t too bad as he talked to the birds and beasts, was polite and spoke to them as one would to a friend. It was a little strange, but Dís remembered speaking to the Ravens of Erebor in the same manner. 

He gave her food and a corner of his house which she could make private with mismatched curtains, adding a little of her own charms to block out the sound as well as a thin wall would have. There was cloth Radagast had no use for and Dís could fashion clothes for herself when she needed more than the torn and dirtied tunic and pants she’d work in the battle. 

It wasn’t home though. 

Dís cried and raged alone in the forest the first weeks. She tried to leave the forest but no matter which direction she went, each path twisted back to the wizard’s house and there was no escape.

‘ _Consumed by a giant creature'_ she thought miserably. _'And what bigger creature than a forest._ ’

In one particular fit of rage and panic she transformed herself into a tiny bird. It was unlike a magic she had ever attempted back in Erebor; her new visage was that of a jaybird, with plumage that graduated from black to a magnificent royal blue. Smaug was mocking at her from wherever she was, and Dís didn’t have the power to break such a curse. Each time Dís accidentally shifted into a bird it was as if the dragon was laughing at her, a princess no more a threat than a tiny songbird. 

There was nothing left to do for her but bided her time. She helped Radagast in his house and with the animals, and found that that he didn’t use magic at all. Sometimes she thought he forgot about being a wizard, and each time Dís tried to speak to him about her curse or of who she was he did not hear the words.

There was a slim silver chain around Dís’ ankle, one she could not take off and barely felt when she wasn’t looking. She felt Smaug’s magic when she touched it, but each time she tried to show it to Radagast he did not seem to see, just as he didn’t hear her words when she spoke of the curse. At times she was sure that she was going mad, but the chain was real enough; the mice and squirrels sometimes nibbled at it.

Slowly, _slowly_ Dís gained some control over her bird form. She could change in and out of the shape, and though she hated that she had it, it was of some use. She was small and would not be able to fly quickly or for too long. It was more out of a mistake that Dís flew through the forest one day, when she realized that her path was not twisting her around to return to Radagast’s house. Her chain was _gone_ , and she hadn't even needed magic to break it.

The sudden hope made Dís’ little bird heart beat harder and she flew and flew, daring to believe that she could escape. She would have screamed in laughter when the trees were behind her and she was free.

Smaug’s curse had kept her from leaving the forest and Radagast in her real shape, but as a bird she _could_. She flew tirelessly, her wings trembling with the effort of the long distance. She flew day and night until she could not ignore her fatigue and the ache of her empty belly. She rested as little as she could before she continued on.

In the end Dís finally found Erebor, the castle still standing, her people safe. Dís took her time to listen and try to find out where her family was. Thorin, last of her adult family, was king now. She overheard court gossip, and listened to saddened tutting of the fate of the lost Princess Dís, who had still not been found. The Arkenstone was gone as well, but the line of Durin endured through the little sister-son of the prince.

‘ _Son?'_ Dís wondered. _'There are two, where is the other? Kili is safe, the talismans told me. And Philip...they must be here, they must be!_ ’

But Philip and the baby were gone. She knew that Philip would have taken Kíli back to England, to the other world. She would be able to find them surely, as soon as she was back with her remaining family.

When she flew to her old rooms, she found the furniture covered with sheets to prevent the gathering of dust. 

‘ _A fine welcome home_ ’, she huffed to herself, though she hadn't expected much else.

Dís landed and took a moment to rest before she focused on returning to her shape. 

She was _exhausted_ ; her tiny body had been pushed to its limits in its endeavour, so it did not worry Dís when she could not manage to regain her shape immediately. She rested and drank some cool water from a little pond in the palace garden; she even slept though she could barely stand the delay. 

And still the feathers would not turn to her own skin.

The little bird could not scream the way she wanted to, but Dís did it anyway, however she could.

Smaug may have retreated, but her magic was not to be underestimated

The little bird lay in the shadows of the princess’ room and cried, but there was nothing she could do. The Ravens who found her sensed that the little bird wasn’t as she seemed, and though they could do little about the matter, they preened her feathers and let her stay in their roost, as they rarely permitted to other birds. 

Dís stayed for a few more days, unwilling to leave her home and the family that was so close. She watched her little son, and saw how sad he was though he tried to be brave; Thorin, her only living brother now, was doing his best to be strong and a good King. It seemed as if he was nearly afraid of being responsible for Fíli’s well being with his parents gone, but still Dís trusted that they would manage. He had always loved her son, so Thorin would do well.

Finally there was nothing Dís could do but return to the forest of the wizard. The bird shape was exhausting and uncomfortable for such a stretch of time. The loss of hope weighed so heavily on her heart that her wings felt like lead, and her return journey took three times as long as her flight out.

When Dís finally arrived in the clearing of the wizard’s house it felt like both a relief and a stab through her heart to be able to return to her own body, silver chain and all. Everything was as she had left it, but as she entered the hut Radagast only spared her an absentminded glance as he shooed a squirrel off his measuring spoons.

"Ah ah ah _there_ you are, little bird, you’ve missed supper," he simply said, busy with whatever herbs he was examining.

Perhaps it was just the sadness in her heart, but it sounded as if there was pity in his voice. Dís walked past him and to her little corner with the bed he’d offered her, and crawled under the blankets. She stayed there, hidden for just one night, exhausted and aching, and she let herself lie still and feel nothing for just a little while. 

*

The next morning, Dís brushed off her dress, and only hesitated for a moment before covering the silver chain on her ankle with a piece of cloth and going to fetch water. If her eyes remained red, there was nobody who would comment, though the mice that inhabited Radagast’s teacups looked on in sympathy. She was trapped, she knew that now, but she refused to be idle.

Radagast taught her the magic of the woods. It was not so much spells as potions and poultices, but knowledge was knowledge and Dís appreciated the distraction. Even if her teacher was extremely scatterbrained.

“I already learned healing back in Erebor,” she insisted in vain as Radagast flapped his hands in frustration, attempting to show her the correct way to treat a gash on a fawn’s leg.

“Well you’re doing it wrong,” he tutted in exasperation, and proceeded to give her a lecture on the numerous applications of herb salve while Dís and the fawn shared weary glances.

She learned how to tend to animals, and over time came to understand some of their languages, though she never quite grasped the pronunciations of most of them and tended to communicate in her own tongue.

The woods was kind to her as a bird. Often the forest and delicate chain weighed so oppressively on her mind that she would fly to the treetops simply to see the sky again without having to acknowledge the forest around her. 

She was trapped, but she refused to waste away. Radagast had old books in various different languages (though many of these were used for door stops or tea coasters and not for their obvious purpose), which she pored over until her eyes ached from the dim light of dying candles. She learned spells that could change the colours of leaves, or make flowers bloom earlier than their season. Dyeing her clothes became somewhat of a hobby, for her spells allowed her to change the colours even after the dyes were set. She learned the symptoms of sickened trees and how to treat the ailments of many small woodland creatures.

‘ _I am a forest witch now,_ ’ she thought to herself. _'If only Philip could see, he’d laugh at the irony._ ’

Once every few years she would don her wings and brave the journey back to Erebor, and there she would watch her kingdom live on without her. She yearned for her family and for the mountains, and even the energy it cost to reach the castle was worth it. Fili was a darling lad, and her heart swelled with pride and sorrow in equal measure as she watched him grow. She lived with the Ravens and watched as Thorin rebuilt their kingdom, and each time she visited his hair had a new streak of silver. And each time, she searched in vain for a sign of her husband, or a boy with a mess of brown curls, but of course she never found them.

One time she was not careful, and Fili spotted her as he recited the royal lineage to Thorin in the courtyard, where they sometimes held their private lessons.

“That bird, it’s looking at us, uncle!” Fili broke off, and Thorin turned to look too. Dís froze.

“Can I keep it?” pleaded Fili. “I could teach it to speak, like the Ravens, and we can be friends.”

Thorin ruffled the boy’s hair and chuckled. “I’m sure the bird has a family to get back to, lad, and it wouldn’t do to keep it cooped up to get lonely,” Thorin said. Fili pouted but conceded the point, and their lesson continued. Dís, however, was already on her way back to the forest.

She did not return to Erebor after that.

Every day she’d check her charms to make sure Philip was alive. Most of them were useless trinkets, but she wore his charm on a cord around her neck, so it was always warm against her skin. It was a torment, for such a small trinket to be the only link she had with her family, but without it she would have gone mad with grief and worry. From the steady pulsing warmth of her charm, Philip seemed content, and she could only hope that her boy was growing up healthy and strong.

It got easier, in a way. She wept less frequently, and found solace in her study. While she did not stop pestering Radagast for ways to break her curse, she stopped expecting an answer.

She refused to forget Philip's face, or the colour of Frerin's eyes, or Thorin's rare smiles. Sometimes she dreamed about Frerin, and knew that it was the only way she would see her dear brother’s face again; she would awake with tears on her pillow as she clung to her memories. Sometimes she dreamed about fire, and sometimes she dreamed of a song, hummed in the darkness by a familiar and comforting voice, always just out of reach.

_Please say you’ll return to me,_  
_To me, to me,_  
_Promise you’ll return to me._

And so it went, and so it went.

Sometimes she was a bird, and sometimes she was a woman. The days blended together, and while she felt her isolation very keenly, her heart had hardened a shell of dull acceptance around it. It was so unassuming and gradual that she did not realize it had settled over her until one day she could not recall how many days it was since she had last seen Erebor, and realized that this did not panic her, but filled her with sorrow.

And so it went, and so it went.

And one night, so many nights after her curse that Dís had given up counting, a star made its untimely descent downwards, and a boy named Kíli crossed the Wall into Arda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dís' birdshape: http://www.vannattabros.com/12-02/jay8.jpg


	29. The Not Quite (But Not Quite /Not/) Pirate Market

The little settlement was nestled close to the steep rocky side of the high cliffs, looking like a mismatched patchwork quilt from above. Kíli and Tauriel stood at the rail, looking down as the crew carefully manoeuvred the Wind Dancer towards the ground and the cliffs where they’d be able to dock in mid air.

Though there were other vessels in the sky, the Wind Dancer was by far the largest and the only one as high. If Tauriel had to judge, she’d guess that the largest among the small boats floating near the ground could operate on four people alone. They were slim and had tent planes spanned over their decks them so nobody could see what was going on aboard.

“Tiny smuggler boats,” Nori explained as she asked.

He stood at the rail as well, one hand wrapped around the ropes lazily as he kept an eye on the wooden beams raised up from the cliff.

“This entire village is a true blessing for the black market. There aren’t that many illegal things going on there, but it’s easy to hide if you do sell things without taxes or without care for trade agreements. Most of _that_ side of business takes place in tents and the owners are gone in a heartbeat if they smell trouble. There are solid houses as well, but those rarely have the same owner for longer than a few months.”

Nori smiled as he looked down, a sneer with a hint of nostalgia.

“I used to half live there at one point. Can’t say I miss that.”

The Wind Dancer finally was manoeuvred to hover parallel to the cliff’s side. Bofur and Lifur threw ropes to one of the docks as the sails were hoisted. For that neither Tauriel nor Kíli were asked to help, as it was part of the ship’s procedures that would go much quicker and easier with experience. It only took one minute to tie the ship securely and connect her to the cliffside with a small walkway.

None of the crew moved to jump on the wooden gangplank though, and everyone turned to where Dwalin stood at the helm.

“Now,” he said, voice loud enough to be heard over the wind and all over deck. “Get the cargo off board and do you work. After that it’s shore leave.”

A cheer went through the crew and everyone hurried to fulfil their task. Bofur stomped on the gangplank to make sure everything was secured right and Lifur went to join his father and Glóin in fetching the big canister that apparently contained the lightning. After those were carried off board the crew slowly started to filter over the plank over the plank to get to the cliff as well.

It was hardly broad enough for two people to walk side by side at once, with nets to the sides so one wouldn’t fall off to the ground far below. The nets only reached just below Tauriel’s waist, and though she never minded high altitudes she suppressed a shudder at having to walk where the wind was so strong. After the first hesitant step, she held her breath and stared straight ahead at the cliffside until she was safely across. Kili bounded across after her and she snorted a laugh as he sank to his knees and patted the dirt, praising the heavens for _solid ground_. She knew he was getting used to the sky quickly, but he still felt safer on the rock.

The crew that would go down to the markets gathered around to wait for Dwalin, who approached last. He was wearing his long dark brown coat now, which he only donned when it was particularly cold on the ship. The way he held himself was less relaxed than on the ship, though, and Tauriel supposed that the image of being the Captain was more crucial here.

Dwalin looked surveyed his crew.

“Bombur, take as many as you need to go get supplies to the ship. I need at least three to bring the wares in once the negotiation is over.”

Bombur nodded and he and Borra turned to the waiting crew to pick.

Behind Tauriel, Bofur leaned close to Kíli to whisper to him.

“Come on lad, we should take the opportunity to get you new and better clothes.”

There was a chuckle as Kíli agreed, and Bofur whispered something about not wanting to stick around for the heavy carrying. They picked two more crew members to go along, and Kíli waved a sheepish goodbye to Tauriel before Bofur dragged him along towards the path leading to the small village below.

Nori and Dwalin remained as the crew busied itself with their tasks, and both of them glanced at Tauriel as she waited around debating on which group to follow. 

“Do you want to come along as we try to pull as much gold out of that little shopkeep of the cliff?” Nori asked, his lips twitching in a smile.

“"And you said you weren't pirates," she smirked, though she walked towards him.

"Haggling, my dear, nothing pirate about it," corrected Nori amiably as they set off. "And it's an art form."

Tauriel followed the Captain as he led the way along the cliffside and past the many empty docks. The rock opened up into a small cave, an overhang sheltering the crooked house at the very edge of the little port. A very small part of it could pass as habitable, if one were not particularly picky, and was connected to a larger building that must have been a warehouse.

The inside of the warehouse was crammed full of all manner of things; it was dark and a little musty, though open windows provided a breeze and light further back. Tauriel’s eyes adjusted to the surroundings quickly, and could make out the objects filling the space to be wooden planks and large sheets of cloth that were most likely sails. Ropes, ribbons and trinkets hung from the ceiling and a few dusty tapestries hung faded and forlorn along walls, where they were visible through the many shelves and tables piled with goods.

“Ahh, I knew I saw the Wind Dancer in the sky today,” a voice came from somewhere behind a stack of barrels, followed soon by a small man who stalked towards the group. He had sickly pale skin and his greasy hair fell into his face as his grey eyes flicked from Nori to Dwalin expectantly. He only threw Tauriel a brief curious look, before returning to business.

Nori and Dwalin approached him, and Tauriel was left to nose around at the many trinkets around the place. She kept her ears fixed on the conversation nonetheless.

“Fresh lightning, as always?” the man asked as Dwalin crossed his arms before his chest with an impressive scowl. Nori put on his sharp smile instead, nodding briefly.

“What else would it be?”

Nori showed him a cylindrical container, which, when the catch was released, unleashed a bolt of lightning that crackled and sizzled as it lit the whole room with a bright flash. Unfazed by the remarkable display, the men proceeded to haggle about the price, Nori making half threatening jokes (which to Tauriel's ears contained more threat than joke) and Dwalin growling, refusing to back down from his set price. Tauriel soon lost interest, and began examining a table of assorted weaponry.

"Dwalin," murmured Nori casually, loud enough that it was obviously meant be overheard, "I think that rich lady the last port back can be persuaded to give us the fantastic sum she offered us, even though we turned her down in the hopes of getting a better deal here-"

"Oh _fine_ , have it your way," relented the man, sounding utterly disgruntled. "Bleed me dry why don't you. You're lucky your quality is impeccable."

He got a contract and bags of coins to count out what Dwalin demanded.

“Good to know you’re reasonable, Wormtongue,” Nori said with a sweet voice.

"It's _Honeytongue_ ", corrected the man miserably. 

"Course it it," dismissed Nori, "and I bet you nicknamed yourself after your charming conversational skills and not the texture of your hair."

Wormtongue chose to ignore the last part, and handed Dwalin his money with only a twitch of his eye. 

"Fair's fair," he announced brightly, his business manner turning once again cheery, if a little slimy. "Oh, but don't you happen to have more to sell? I know you sailors come across the best things at times."

“Nothing we wish to part with, no,” Nori waved him off.

Tauriel picked up a harpoon from a pile nearby, wondering what one could possibly find in the sky that would be good to sell. She glanced at the group to make sure she was not being watched before she hefted it like a spear and began to mime a battle against invisible enemies.

“Have you heard the rumours though? They say a _star_ has fallen. A sky ship like yours would have an easier time tracking that thing down, you know. You can’t even _imagine_ the gold you could get for it, you’d be rich for the rest of your lives!”

Tauriel felt a cold shiver run down her spine as she set down the harpoon harder and louder than necessary. She glanced up towards the men sheepishly, where Dwalin was watching her. Tauriel's heart skipped a beat and she froze as their eyes locked. Her hand edged towards the table's knives.

“No,” he said simply as he returned his attention to the others. “I haven’t seen it.”

Wormtongue looked a little bit disappointed, but he let the matter go.

“Well now, let me show you where your crew can store away the lightning,” he said instead and Nori called for the crew that was left behind to do so.

As they worked Nori and Dwalin turned to the door, waving Tauriel along. She could only take a good deep breath once the door was closed behind them and she was back under the open sky again.

Did Dwalin know what she was? Or had he looked because of the clatter she'd made? How could he possibly suspect that she was a star, if he did so? Either way, Dwalin had not considered selling her if he knew, and if he wanted any kind of harm to befall Tauriel, he’d had ample opportunity to do something on his ship. 

Nori must have noticed her unease, though thankfully he attributed it to the salesman, not anything she feared from him or Dwalin.

“The people here aren’t all slimy as that one,” he told her with a reassuring smile. “And why don’t we go explore the markets for a bit, eh?”

He threw Dwalin a look and the Captain nodded.

The walk down towards the tent village was a quick descent. There was a path into which somebody had carved broad steps and it was easy to walk on despite its steepness. The closer they came to the ground the more noise there was around them, voices calling and haggling and people proclaiming what they had to sell. It was marvellous.

Below everything was colourful and busier than Tauriel had ever seen so close. She kept to Nori and Dwalin’s side as they walked, all three stopping occasionally to look what was offered. The stalls and tents and carpets the vendors sold from were as mismatched as the entire place; spicy fried meat was sold next to fine cut glass and crude iron kitchen tools, and every other stand had spellcasters offering their trinkets.

“Most of that is junk,” Nori told Tauriel as she examined some painted pebbles that could protect a garden from weeds.

“Sure, there’s magic on it, but most of it is useless or does the opposite from what was promised.”

“Anyone can spellcast,” Dwalin muttered as he glared at a vendor who’d tried too hard to get his attention. “But few have the dedication or wish to really delve into the finer arts of this craft.”

As they walked Nori occasionally pointed out vendors he knew, those who stole all their wares or who carried illegal weapons to sell them. Occasionally he’d even mention how he had been involved with some of their activities, though he didn’t specify, and Tauriel listened in fascination as Dwalin glared every time. 

They stopped a few times, to look at specific things. There was a stand with an old woman selling knives, and she smiled at Nori when he stopped to point out the different kinds to Tauriel. Dwalin stopped by a confectioner's stall to buy a little bag of sweets when Tauriel was busy listening to one of Nori’s stories, and Nori grinned hard as he pretended to ignore the Captain stashing the tiny parcel away in his jacket. There were some vendors selling toys and Nori mentioned how they should point that one out to Glóin for his little lad.

One place sold tiny figures of animals, carved and painted in loving detail to appear asleep; when Tauriel leaned closer to take a look they started moving in their boxes, stretching and uncurling to blink up at her. Both she and Nori stopped to admire them, and Tauriel wondered whether she should buy one of them, before she remembered that she had no money. The boxes closest to the two contained a little bunny, a few bears, a fox and several small cat-like things, as well as creatures Tauriel did not know the name for. They all tried to scramble to get at Tauriel and Nori’s fingers when they were close enough. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nori stroking the head of a fox with his finger.

Just as she was really getting into teasing one of the cats with a strand of her hair, Tauriel heard Kíli call her name.

She turned to see him and Bofur approaching through the crowds. Kíli was wearing a new blue vest and shirt, as well boots not unlike what most of the Wind Dancer’s crew were wearing, and there was a bundle under his arm. He looked pleased with himself when he noticed Tauriel’s look.

“Bofur helped me find new clothes,” he told her.

“Can’t be spending time on a ship with just one change, and not even a well fitting one at that,” Bofur nodded along.

“It suits you!” Tauriel said. The blue of the vest and the shirt’s cut, along with his steadily growing hair made Kíli look as if he really was just a young crew member of a ship, not as out of place with his things from England.

Kíli’s cheeks reddened as he smiled wider, pleased with the pride.

“We saw Mirra earlier. She said we should come find you and she will help you buy some as well.”

Tauriel glanced over her shoulder at the Captain and the first mate. Nori was still gazing at the animal figures as Dwalin stood by his side and waited, but as Tauriel was about to ask if they were fine by it Dwalin shrugged.

“Can’t have one in my crew in ill fitting clothes,” Dwalin simply said. “Hinders their ability to work and move about right.”

Kíli’s hand was on her wrist then and he pulled her away, towards where Bofur was leading them to find his sister-in-law.

“I love this place,” Kíli said, eyes shining, and Tauriel nodded.

“If I had any coins I’d be tempted to buy everything I see," confessed Tauriel, "even if Nori says most of it is junk or a scam."

Kíli agreed and looked at the wares that were displayed were they passed.

“I would too. Not even things for me, gifts as well…”

Tauriel tried to think of who she would give gifts to, if she had the opportunity.

“Will you get something for Ned?”

It had been an innocent question, but Kili's face fell.

“I was thinking about it, but I haven’t seen anything he would want on this market… I don’t even think he’d like it here.”

Tauriel pulled her wrist free to place her hand on Kili's shoulder briefly, squeezing it comfortingly.

“You will find something worthy of bringing home,” she said, and Kíli nodded in determination.

“Oh, I will.”

*  
The tavern was loud and dark and filled with people, though the area above the foyer was a little more private. The stairs led up to a balcony and from there one could see the bar and tables below through the rail.

Nori watched the patrons downstairs for a while as Dwalin glared at his ale. He worried, of course, and Nori wouldn’t be surprised if his Captain were to send out a letter to the King this night. Things were happening, and everyone was uneasy.

“Relax,” Nori said, leaning towards Dwalin across their small table.

Dwalin just scoffed.

Nori’s fingers moved along the rim of his own tankard of mead as he hummed. They had talked about this the first few nights after the glider crashed into their ship. What were essentially two children from different worlds had appeared where they couldn’t possibly be, telling stories of travels and Orcs and ambushes, in ways that Orcs could not have accomplished themselves.

What was worse, Orcs learning spells of trickery and illusions, or Orcs with an ally powerful and willing enough to do this for them? Of course, there was also the chance of this being a one-time thing, with Orcs somehow capturing a magician or spellcaster who could do it for them, as Nori had suggested to Dwalin. He didn’t quite believe it, and neither did Dwalin. One had to be strong to make an Orc appear as a little girl for a long time, and several of them at that.

The children themselves were strange as well. Kíli, a boy from England, had made Dwalin sigh once again at the loss of his English friend, so long ago now. And Tauriel, who had an air of magic about her, was certainly not from Arda. Not from the usual places in their world at least. It was near unnoticeable, but Nori was sure of it, and so was Dwalin.

Nori had helped her pick out some clothes from his own stash, without fear of her speaking of what she saw there. If she noticed the many gowns, she might assume they were stolen or belonged to the crew, and if she spoke of it the crew would assume them to be loot as well. Apart from a robe and a nightgown, which were wet and would make the girl sick in the weather, Tauriel only had a necklace of old metal and a dull crystal so lackluster it might have been glass, not even worth contemplating stealing.

Neither Dwalin nor he himself were sure of what she could be. Oh, of course they _suspected_ , but there was no way to prove any of it. Either way, Nori felt like Dwalin wouldn’t push her for answers, just offer protection, so he wouldn’t try anything either.

Dwalin was staring at the people below now, his hand clenching around his new locket Nori had gotten him from the market. His jaw was tense and there were deep lines across his face.

“How long before the Orcs move into our lands everywhere,” he muttered.

The idea of Orcs as deep in the safe parts of the kingdom as Kíli and Tauriel had encountered them was worrying, and wasn’t this how it had been like with the war, nearly two decades ago?

Dwalin had been there, had fought and lost so much and survived. Of course he would think of that.

Nori reached out to squeeze his Captain’s hand over the locket, rubbing soothingly with his thumb until he felt Dwalin’s fingers unclench and relax.

“We know what to look for now,” he said, a little like a promise. A war like when he was young would not happen again.

His Captain smiled and turned his hand under Nori’s hold to briefly squeeze it, before he pulled away and took up his drink.

“There’s other things to think of anyway,” Dwalin said. “The crew, as always, and the girl.”

Though it wasn’t clear whether Tauriel could truly be a star, until further notice she was a creature in need of protection against things she didn’t even know were after her. Even if people only _thought_ she was worth something they would try to get her. Wormtongue’s greedy expression as he talked about the fallen star had been enough to make Nori shiver, and he knew that Dwalin hadn’t liked it either.

There were people who’d see a live star or similar creature as nothing but a commodity. And then there were people who had more use for a star dead than alive.

Nori shrugged the thoughts off and focused on his drink.

“If you want the girl safe, we’ll keep her safe. Or at least teach her how to fight properly, she’s already getting good at it. The boy can be taught too.”

Dwalin snorted into his drink. 

“Might be good for him. Just be careful, the lad glares daggers at you each time you so much as speak with the girl for too long. I think he might be jealous.”

Nori laughed at that. 

“Oh, he shouldn’t worry, I’m not planning to take his little friend away.”

Dwalin shook his head with a smile and returned his attention to his ale. He briefly rummaged in the pockets of his discarded coat to pull out the bag of sweets he had purchased earlier, and slid it across the table towards Nori before taking one out to eat. Nori grinned at him, popped one into his mouth and leaned back in his own chair more comfortably. The two men sat quietly then, as they drank and watched the crowd below.


	30. Weapons and Waterfalls

“Again!”

Kíli readjusted his stance and glared up at Dwalin, heavy training sword in hand, but he did not complain, only bit his lip and readied himself for the next onslaught. Dwalin could nearly laugh about the boy’s determination despite being visibly miffed about the Captain getting the best of him over and over.

Dwalin raised his own sword and in a flash he was on the boy and attacking. Kíli did not back down, one foot firm on deck as he twisted away from the blow and caught it with his own sword, holding his ground. He learned from each of his mistakes and quickly, Dwalin was pleased to note.

The swords clashed again and again as Dwalin’s assault only grew stronger and quicker. Kíli lasted several minutes before his attempt to evade a blow made him stumble and fall back against the helm deck’s rail. He gasped and stared at the floor, shocked at the sudden shift, then glared up at Dwalin, most certainly pouting though Dwalin was willing to overlook that.

“You are good,” Dwalin told him as he set his training sword aside. They had been at it for long enough to give it a rest for the day.

He offered Kíli a hand and the lad took it without hesitation.

“I’m nowhere near hitting _you_ ,” he muttered, as if it was some great failure. He’d only trained for little more than two weeks, what did he expect?

“And I doubt you’ll ever get there in the next couple of years.”

Kíli stared at Dwalin wide eyed, but Dwalin waved it off.

“Lad, I’ve been training since I was half your age, I was a warrior and part of the King's Guard. You are only just starting to properly learn.”

Kíli didn’t look quite as convinced, but Dwalin clapped his shoulder, nearly making the lad’s knees buckle.

“You already know some things, and you show a lot of promise. I trained people before, even those who are starting at an age like you. You only have to get used to the weight and balance of a sword, train your reflexes and strength.”

Kíli nodded solemnly, pacified by the praise. He looked at the training sword before he put it back with Dwalin’s.

Dwalin handed him a flask of water and they both leaned against the rail to take a breath. The sun had not yet reached its zenith but it was warm on the Wind Dancer where she made her way between the few clouds around them. Kíli’s hair stuck to his forehead and his cheeks were red, though he obviously was trying to keep his exhaustion and harsh breathing from Dwalin.

It made Dwalin smile; it was just so much like Fíli had been like when he was a young lad first practicing with his Uncle Dwalin. Frerin had been like that as well, though they both had been younger and Dwalin had only had a little bit more stamina than his cousins.

The breeze around them provided a quick cool down though. Both of them had discarded all but their shirts and Dwalin had rolled his sleeves up to expose his scarred and tattooed forearms. Kíli eyed Dwalin's arms without much effort for subtlety, and remarked that he'd never seen such tattoos in England, only hearing that sailors sometimes had them. Dwalin had explained that his were more a warrior’s tattoos, but Kíli hadn’t dared ask for more explanation.

“You don’t have to learn the sword,” Dwalin told him after a while. “There’s other weapons. Best to know them all just in case, but everyone favours something else.”

He himself preferred axes and a good hammer to any sword, but he knew how to teach it to others all the same.

“I used to practice archery when I was in England,” Kíli said, “but it was never meant as a weapon.”

“Bow and Arrow? Not much use in close combat when you are attacked, but in battle it has its merits. For hunting as well, it’s a good skill for the wilds.”

Kíli hummed in thought and Dwalin looked up to the maze of masts and ropes above the deck of his ship. He could see Nori high above them, leaning in the ropes as if it were a hammock. He liked doing that, watching the ground below or what was going on on deck, and Dwalin hated it when he did so without reason. At least Nori’s limbs were hooked around the net in a way that would make it hard to throw him off.

He shook his head and decided not to bother. If Nori saw him glaring he’d just grin and wave.

“We can find you a bow and arrows if you wish to practice again,” Dwalin suggested, and Kíli’s eyes lit up.

“Can we do that on the ship?”

“Not on the ship, there isn’t enough space and _who knows_ where the arrows might land if you shoot overboard.”

Dwalin looked towards the lower deck where the crew was busy doing as little work as possible, so close to lunch.

“Barely anyone on board uses _just_ a sword,” Dwalin explained to Kíli. “You saw Nori using knives, and Óin prefers a mace. Mirra is vicious with a hammer, she used to be a blacksmith before she signed on, and Bifur uses a hunting spear. I think Bofur’s weapon used to be a mining mattock once, but he claims it has always meant to be a weapon.”

Kíli stared towards the crew, searching out those Dwalin mentioned with his eyes. He seemed intrigued at least.

“Sometimes they spar. If we have enough space below the crew uses that to train. Perhaps you should join them, it would be good for you to try new weapons or learn how to defend yourself against them,” Dwalin suggested. It would be good for the lad.

Kíli thanked him for the lesson and took his vest and gear to return to the crew, immediately heading towards the nearest member, no doubt to ask about the sparring.

Dwalin rolled his shoulders to relax a little and looked up towards Nori again. Sparring and teaching Kíli had taken his mind of his worry for a while, but now it was returning. He’d sent out messages to both Thorin and Balin, warning of the Orcs and any rumours they had heard in the little town, asking them to look into it and be prepared. He’d not spoken to anyone of this; he had only mentioned it to Óin and Glóin, as it was their right to know if their family was possibly facing such dangers again, and Nori of course.

It didn’t take long for Nori to turn his head and look down to meet Dwalin’s eyes. He was aware of everything when he sat so high to watch the deck, pretending to only care for the scenery. At the distance it was a little hard to tell the minuscule stirring of Nori’s expression, which was the best way to read him, but Dwalin was sure that his first mate was waiting for orders or for a question.

Dwalin briefly gestured towards the floor, leaning his head to the side. His rooms were directly under the helm, and Nori understood. He flicked his wrist in the way that meant ‘in a moment’ and Dwalin nodded at him, satisfied with the answer. He picked up his things and walked down the steps, calling for someone to take over the helm.

Once in his room Dwalin discarded his vest and gear again, put away the practice swords and had the time to unbutton his shirt a little to cool his neck and chest with a washcloth from his basin, when the quiet knock came. Nori never waited to be let into any place but the washroom and Dwalin’s bedroom, but he still stood at the door when Dwalin opened for him, eyebrow raised and a bottle of good wine from the storage room in his hand.

Dwalin managed to make his lips twitch to a smile as he stepped aside to let Nori saunter in. This wasn’t an urgent matter or ship related questions. Dwalin simply did not feel up to brooding on his own just now, and perhaps it was time for some excitement with the ship. And for that there was none better than Nori to plan ahead.

*  
The rope was rough and bit into Kíli’s hands but it wasn’t worse than climbing up to the crow’s nest, especially with the grass below looking soft and close enough to almost see the blades of grass. Tauriel was already waiting below, one hand braced on her hips and the other shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up to Kíli and the ship.

“Beautiful,” she declared with reverence once Kíli was on the ground and standing next to her.

He followed her gaze to where the Wind Dancer hung above them. A part of Kíli still insisted that it was wrong to have a ship suspended in the air and not safely on the waves, but he couldn’t deny that his temporary home was an elegant and beautiful ship. She was a few dozen feet above them, swaying softly and barely more than a boat on a lake would.

The sleek hull was much cleaner than that of a sea ship, as it lacked small clinging sea creatures,, and there were nets along the sides and the bottom, hung so that one could climb along the underside if the need arose, and some weights hung off the keel. There were some metal markings that Kíli suspected was the place the lightning nets were attached to, though he hadn’t seen those in action while not also afraid and disoriented.

Strange as she was, Kíli really could understand how the Wind Dancer made the voices of Dwalin and the crew grow so soft when speaking of the ship for any length of time.

He grinned at Tauriel and they went to find the bags they had packed earlier, the smallest of the bunch as they only had a few borrowed old clothes and what they were wearing on their bodies. Others had more changes of clothes, as well as gear for storms and maintenance and weapons, which needed to be tended to even if not in use.

Everyone was chatting and in a cheerful mood as they walked down a small rocky path down the hill, the few who’d be staying on board for now whistling and calling from the deck. Kíli was barely paying attention to the place they were heading to, looking towards the forests instead. They weren’t unlike the ones he and Tauriel had wandered through already, but these seemed younger and had different kinds of trees.

The sound of rushing water had been there the entire time, with the river running over the hill, but Kíli only really started listening to it when the crew reached the foot of the hill. He turned to look up at the ship, and was faced with a clear wall of water instead.

The laughter near him told Kíli that he must have let his surprise escape in a soft gasp when he saw the waterfall, but he couldn’t care. The descending water bounced over rocks and sprayed into the air to create dozens upon dozens of little rainbows everywhere, and fell into a pool at the foot of the hill before it moved on in a narrower, smaller river towards the trees.

“You look like you’ve never seen a waterfall before,” Bofur joked next to him, and Kíli shook his head.

“I haven’t.”

Tauriel walked so close towards it that her shirt started to dampen from the water’s spray.

“I’ve never seen one like this either,” she said, smiling. “It’s wonderful.”

‘ _Must be strange for a star to look up at things she’d only ever seen from above_ ’, Kíli supposed.

He was pleased to find that the crew set up their little camp right next to the stream, well in sight of the pretty scenery.

Bombur fetched water to cook with, and some of the crew went downstream to start washing their clothes. Sigrid moved past Kíli and Tauriel, gently tugging at Tauriel’s sleeve.

“Lets get this over with,” she suggested, “most wash their things in shifts, and if we’re done early we won’t have to do it later.”

It seemed sensible so the three went ahead to a flat rock to spread their things out on. Lifur was toying around with one of the ship’s practice swords and stuck his tongue out as he saw them preparing to do sensible things. Sigrid raised her eyebrows with a dignified tilt of her chin, but then she stuck her tongue out as well. Lifur just laughed and went to find his uncle instead.

Sigrid had a block of soap from the ship so all three removed their boots, rolled up the legs of their trousers and went to wash their clothes in the icy water. It wasn’t too bad after the initial shock, but it was still early in the morning and Kíli realised that he had nearly missed this from when he and Tauriel were still wandering on foot. On the Wind Dancer there was a corner below deck to wash clothes in buckets and then hang them up if there was space, or take them above deck if the wind and weather permitted it. The water there was warmer, but sometimes one had to take turns to have enough space for washing and drying. Here everyone could do everything at once.

Kíli scrubbed at one of his shirts that had a particularly big spot of grease, and as he worked Tauriel and Sigrid’s conversation was nearly drowned out in his head. He wondered how his father was doing, and what he’d say if he knew that his son was a sailor in the sky now.

The water was moving steadily but somehow Kíli ended up catching a glimpse of his reflection in the water. He looked different somehow. Of course, there was his hair that had gotten longer and fell into his face and nearly to his shoulders now, and he had stubble on his cheeks as he simply didn’t have the mind to keep them smooth. But there was also something else besides that. He looked older, his jawline seemed harder and he must have lost a little weight, as well as gained some muscle from travelling, training and working on the ship.

Just a little grooming would have him look like a formidable young Englishman. Ned would be impressed, surely, to have Kíli look like a man now, more like he himself was, not like a boy.

As he was now Kíli felt that he had the look of a pirate already, with his new vest and shirt and the rough look of a man who spent his time on a ship, surrounded by wind and… well, more wind, instead of the saltwater he’d have thought of.

Turning to look at Tauriel, Kíli realized that she looked as much as a pirate as he did, even more so, like a proper pirate princess… She had proper pants now, and shirts in a pale green, as well as a long brown leather vest and belts for her two knives. She had started braiding her hair back, the bright red colour pulling some attention from the large pointed ears. The way she held herself was elegant, and she certainly had a royal air about her, otherworldly like a star ought to be. 

“-Kíli? Have you been listening?”

“Hm?”

Kíli realized that Tauriel was looking at him, head tilted to the side.

“Erm… no sorry,” he admitted sheepishly, “I was lost in thought.”

Tauriel rolled her eyes with a snort as Sigrid snickered next to her.

“I was saying that Sigrid found some bows that might suit you in size and weight, so if you want to try them out?”

“Of course!”

Kíli felt a sudden rush of excitement at getting to shoot some arrows again. He’d wanted to try them out again ever since Dwalin mentioned the chance of it, but so far he’d only gotten to train with a sword. It had been fun to try and spar with everyone below deck, though it had mostly been simple steps and Bofur and Mirra explaining techniques, rather than matches like those Dwalin agreed to every so often. 

They hurriedly finished off their laundry and hung it up on some ropes that were spanned between some of the tall birches around the river.

The bows Sigrid had found were good ones, Kíli could tell right away. Both of the ones she offered were composite bows made from dark wood, with delicate carvings on one and decorated with stamped leather and cut glass.

One was slightly too big for Kíli, a light bow with a string he wouldn’t be able to pull back all the way, but that suited Tauriel just fine. The smaller had patterns that reminded Kíli of the sword he had lost, and though it was heavier than he preferred he knew he would be able to use it accurately.

“This one is from Erebor,” Sigrid pointed out as Kíli examined his. “They do like to decorate their weapons in patterns like this. I’m not sure where yours is from, Tauriel.”

Kíli tried out the bow, pulling at the string and getting used to it in his hands, aiming as if he had arrows and touching the lines carved into it. As he noticed Tauriel watching him intently he paused to show how one was supposed to properly hold and aim with bow and arrow. She was good at mimicking stances by now, easily following Kíli’s instructions with her brow furrowed in concentration.

Sigrid hung up rough pieces of cloth on some tree trunks, the faded paint on them serving as target practice. Once she returned she took a moment to watch how Kíli was teaching Tauriel and then went to fetch a crossbow for herself.

“Don’t you use a bow?” Tauriel asked as she noticed the new weapon, edging closer to take a better look at the mechanism.

“My father taught me when I was little,” Sigrid explained, “But I know how to use all sorts of weapons to shoot. This one used to be my mother’s, she didn’t use it much, but it was in perfect condition.”

Sigrid showed off the old but well cared for wood and decorations of her weapon. Kíli could recognize blocky slanted letters along the bow, and the pale blue and white paint depicting waves and fish and a red small bird at the very end under the barrel. Though he didn’t know much about the kinds of weapons of Arda, he was sure that the crossbow was different from the weapons of Erebor he’d seen so far.

“Where was it made?” he asked, reaching out but not daring to touch the patterns of paint.

“In my home, Dale. It’s north east from here, at the edge of Erebor’s lands.”

“A different kingdom?”

“A little bit, yes. It wasn’t big enough to ever be a kingdom comparable to the likes of Erebor, but we had Kings back when it still mattered.”

There was a wistful look on Sigrid’s face and Kíli glanced at Tauriel, unsure about whether he could ask more. Tauriel had no such concerns.

“What happened to it? Is the family gone now?”

“No, but about twenty years ago the Orcs… it’s been generations of constant Orc attacks and ambushes that made Dale’s trade difficult and the situation quite bad, despite the help of Erebor and the Iron Hills on both sides. About twenty years ago things got so bad that the actual city of Dale was abandoned and destroyed, and the war hurt Erebor enough to prevent them from being able to aid us. Now we all live on the lakes and rivers. I think the situation was bad enough when my great grandfather was King though, he was the last so I suppose things weren’t really organised enough to warrant a king after that. Now we just have the Master of the town…”

Sigrid was unfazed by what she told, looking off towards the trees as she tried to think of how to explain. Kíli gaped at her.

“You’re the descendant of the King? That makes you a princess, doesn’t it!?”

Tauriel laughed and Sigrid pressed her lips together.

“I grew up in a small house with my parents and siblings and I spent my childhood helping Ma to fish and hunt and Da to make nets and ship wares over the river. Hardly a princess, right?”

Kíli wasn’t sure how to reply to that, but before he could come up with something Sigrid already had handed Tauriel some arrows and he set the thought aside.

His hands had not forgotten how to properly send an arrow into the centre of his targets. While the bow needed some adjustments in how Kíli was used to go about it, he warmed up quickly and send the arrows flying.

Tauriel was slow with each shot, carefully readjusting her position and squinting at the targets for every single arrow, but she did hit within the cloth targets most of the time. The effort to draw her bow and hold the arrow right didn’t seem to bother her as much as it had Kíli, when he first started. She was getting better as they practiced, though she refused to go quicker.

Sigrid was slow in reloading her bolts, but each and every one hit her chosen target straight in centre. It took some efforts to retrieve them, as the bolts struck through the target and deep into the trunk’s wood, but Kíli helped so Sigrid could return to practice.

Hours passed and cheers from the crew interrupted the trio’s practice. Turning, they saw Bifur and Lifur carry a deer between them, freshly hunted down by the pair, and now everyone was glad for the venison Bombur could prepare for them.

Lifur winked and waved as he passed Sigrid and she just stuck out her tongue once again.

That ended the practice and Bombur recruited the youngest crewmembers to help him with the cooking as he was wont to. Lifur was exempt that, since he and his father were responsible for venison in the first place.

Sigrid promised that nobody would need the bow so Kíli could keep it. There would be more time to practice eventually.

The Wind Dancer floated in place above the hill, distractingly pretty with the sunlight hitting her just right. Most crewmembers were done with their laundry and some stripped down to their underwear to splash about in the cold water, Bofur sat in the shade and played the flute and the little group of Bombur’s helpers chatted happily.

When Kíli went to fetch water from the river he spotted Nori sitting behind a rock with his own laundry, and he avoided him as best as he could, though it’d be easier to reach the water. The First Mate still made Kíli nervous, even now.

Dwalin was there as well, wringing out the last of his own clothes. His hair was a little dishevelled and he was only wearing a simple unbuttoned shirt, with none of his usual gear. It was still a little strange to see the Captain like that, and Kíli had to admit to himself that he was starting to really look up to the man, as opposed to his right hand. As far as he was concerned Dwalin deserved more respect than most people Kíli had met.

Bombur prepared a roast and some stew, and by the time the sun was starting to set, colouring the sky a dark orange,the crew was slowly starting to gather around the fireplace, eyeing the venison. By the time Bombur announced the food to be ready he’d slapped at least five hands subtly reaching for the baskets of food.

It was one of the most delicious things Kíli had ever eaten. He barely made an effort to keep himself from making a mess, but nobody else minded. Everyone ate and complimented Bombur on the food and Bifur and Lifur on catching it. Bofur brought out flasks of booze, earning a round of cheers as well.

Somebody brought out another flute and the music started. By now it was dark but the fires illuminated everything around the small camp. The crewmembers guarding the Wind Dancer hung up lamps, so that even the ship was casting a little light from above.

Dwalin went to fetch a violin at one point, providing another voice to the melody. Kíli was surprised to see him handle such a delicate instrument; he’d always thought it to be something elegant, not suitable for such wild dancing music.

Before he knew it hands hauled up him up from his spot on the ground, and Sigrid and Lifur had him on his feet, pulling him to dance. Sigrid laughed as she made Kíli spin around with her, as Lifur did the same to Tauriel. At first Kíli was nervous about messing up the forms, but there were none to be butchered. Those who danced did so without recognizable patterns, skipping and dancing around their partner and together around the fire. Sigrid clapped along to the music, and when Bombur started to use his boxes and cleaned pots as drums she also stomped and jumped to his beat.

More than once Kíli ended up changing partners in the dance. There was Mirra, laughing with her curls bouncing along, and then Borra, shy and not quite as quick as the older ones but jumping with a grace Kíli wouldn’t have expected from how she usually shuffled around.

When Bofur came close to anyone he’d hook his arm around theirs and would spin them around completely out of beat and through the path of anyone else. Kíli nearly fell over his own feet when he became victim of that dance, and Nori tore off Bofur’s hat and threw it towards the trees when he tried it once too often with him.

Dancing with Lifur was the most fun, seeing as the boy was especially cocky after the successful hunt and had Kíli struggling to keep up. His brown eyes shone golden in the firelight and somehow Kíli found himself in a match, trying to outdo him and not even knowing in what, their faces nearly touching and grinning.

Tauriel didn’t dance as close to the fire as Kíli did, but when they finally joined in dance her hands were on Kíli’s waist and she spun him around.

“It’s like that village, with the moving houses,” she told him through her laughs, breathless from the energy of the dance.

By the time Kíli was too exhausted to dance on, Sigrid and Mirra had found themselves a nice tree trunk to lean against and he joined them. His muscles ached but he didn’t mind it at all. He half dreaded walking up the hill and climbing on board of the Wind Dancer, but the thought of his hammock would help him through it. He asked Mirra when they’d be going up but she laughed and shook her head.

Nobody was getting ready to move up even as the musicians put away the instruments, and Kíli understood why when he saw some already fetch blankets and curl up right then and there on the grass.

He followed their example, taking the next best blanket and curling up where the grass was soft. It would be just like his first weeks in Arda, lying under the stars and feeling the pleasant exhaustion in his bones. Only that he had something to curl up underneath as it got colder and there were so many people he came to like, making him feel safer than he had on the road. It had been months now…

Lifur flopped down by his side, yawning as he curled up close to him, brushing his fingers through his wiry hair and then dozing off. Bofur did the same on Kíli’s other side, smelling faintly of herbs and smoke. Both of them were asleep only moments after they lay down, just as they did when they were in their hammocks on the Wind Dancer.

Kíli smiled, a little surprised just how fond he was of the two, and the entire crew. He threw one last look around and up at the stars, before he closed his eyes and drifted off, feeling completely safe. 

*

In her anger Smaug barely managed to make herself lie down and sleep. She had missed the star and she should be chasing it, should put all her effort into catching the little thing. But it was foolish to waste more energy than she had to spare.

Besides, the damned boy and the star had angered Smaug; she wanted to punish the _vermin_ of Erebor. of Erebor.

So she sent out a call for her allies, found a cave in the mountains and lay down to sleep in her anger. The many loose stones she’d thrown around before hiding alerted her of a presence long before he could announce himself, and Smaug was ready when Azog came.

“I have a task for you,” she said instead of a greeting.

“You let the Orcs I gave you last time burn,” Azog replied, brow furrowed. He said it more as a statement, not an accusation, but Smaug did not have the patience for it.

She hissed, eyes blazing and a thick whiff of smoke and embers billowing from her mouth, lest the pale Orc forget who he was talking to.

“The task I have is not for aid,” she said when she saw the way Azog clenched his jaw, calculating a possible defence or escape. As if there was anything he could do against a dragon.

“Those wretched little worms of Erebor have had too much time to rest on their peace,” she said. “It is time to shake their foundations once again.

Azog’s lips twitched into a gruesome smile and he moved his mangled arm so that the light played over the edge of his blade.

“I would crush their villages and lands, but we don’t have the kind of strength to smash their mountain.”

Smaug shrugged, rolled her shoulders and let the last of her smoke escape through her nostrils.

“If you start gathering your people and form an army you will have enough to make them sweat. I will go look for my little prey, and by the time you are ready for your battle, I will be there to burn down any that escape your blades.”

Now Azog’s smile widened enough to reveal the row of sharp teeth.

“That we can do,” he promised, and Smaug could not help but smile as well.


	31. The Lightning Hunt

The soft ticking of the location meters was the only noise in the room. Nori stood leaning against the wall by the tall windows and watched the sky outside. It was a piercingly bright grey, and at this altitude the sun was obscured by it all day now. Occasionally a brief rain shower would beat against the windows, and the occasional muffled sound of the crew would penetrate the walls, but none of that broke the serene mood.

Dwalin was sitting at his desk, back turned to the window as his eyes fixed on the maps and letters in front of him. He was better for it; staring too long into the grey nothingness could cause headaches, and Maker knew Dwalin would be insufferable if he got one of _those_ on top of his already irritable state of mind.

Nori took a sip of the bitter coffee from his flask and pulled a face. It had long gone cold and lacked all of the sweetness or spices he preferred, but he’d paid that no mind when he’d filled it up earlier. Wine would be nicer right now, but Nori didn’t feel like fighting dizziness or dulled senses later on, if there was more work to do.

“You need a distraction,” he told Dwalin after a glance confirmed that his Captain was studying the maps of the mountains along with a letter from his brother.

Nori only got a grunt in reply.

He snorted and put away the flask before approaching the table. There was a deep crease between Dwalin’s brows, as he stared at the map as if all issues could be resolved if he just glared at it for long enough. It was no wonder, really; though he was supposed to be free, a Captain of the skies held back by nothing but his own skills in navigating the air, Dwalin still bowed to the King, his cousin. He was the second son, a warrior more than a politician, a soldier of the guard more naturally than he was a commander in chief. And yet Dwalin felt that the responsibilities of Durin’s line applied to him as much as to those actually in power. 

Sometimes Nori hated that.

He stepped closer to stand behind Dwalin’s chair, leaning in a little to see the desk as well as the Captain could. When Nori placed a hand on Dwalin’s shoulder he felt how tense his muscles were.

“You really do need a distraction,” he stated.

Along with all the worries plaguing Dwalin’s mind lately he’d not had much to focus on instead. He was fine when he did, but Nori had seen him slip back to the tenseness.

Dwalin made no noise but Nori felt his shoulder move under his hand in a sigh.

“I have nothing useful to do.”

“You’re the Captain, go order some people about,” Nori suggested jokingly but Dwalin just glared. 

Nori hummed in thought. 

“We’ll be in Ered Luin soon though.”

Dwalin snorted briefly but Nori could see how the lines on his brow smoothed out a little.

The room grew darker and Dwalin reached out to turn up the pale light of his desk’s little lamp. Nori didn’t have to turn to know that the clouds thickened and turned a darker steel grey behind them. The Forecaster’s glass container was filling up with dark clouds as well, already showing tiny flashes of light.

“And looks like we’ll have a fat catch by then,” Nori said, grin spreading on his face.

He gave Dwalin’s shoulder a last reassuring squeeze before he leaned back and tugged at the ends of the leather band in Dwalin’s hair.

“Should I tell the crew to get the nets ready?”

“Aye.”

The crew would already be preparing for the storm, but the glee spreading on Dwalin’s face was truly nice to see as he gave the order.

*

The rain streaming on deck made it hard to see far beyond the rails and Kíli felt like he was drenched to the bone already, despite only staying out there for the minute it took to help Lifur seal some barrels. He stood on the stairs leading below deck, sheltered but still able to see what was going on all around him.

Distant crackles of thunder warned of the storm the Wind Dancer was heading into, and if Kíli had had any doubts about their purpose, they were disbanded by Nori strutting out and announcing that is was soon to be catching time.

He sniffed a little at the thought of flying into such a chaotic natural occurrence on purpose. At least the Wind Dancer wasn’t making him sea sick, as he would have expected. Instead the wind would push her around in hard but steady movements, which the crew countered in their easy manoeuvring.

Crewmembers were busy with the sails and their gear. Anything that could be lost in a storm had been brought below deck or secured at the first sign of clouds and increased wind, so by now the ship was ready. It was the first time that Kíli had seen everyone in full gear, while wearing it himself; usually the Wind Dancer flew above any sort of rain cloud and avoided harsh conditions when there wasn’t any lightning profit to be made from it.

“It’s easy to manoeuvre through any kind of weather, but why make things difficult?” Dwalin had explained Kíli as he told him things about Arda’s aviation. “We’re not forced to brave a storm because of streams of wind or our route, or even altitude after all.”

Everyone had donned raincoats and hoods if they could tie them well, though most crewmembers opted to just tie their hair out of the way. Nobody cared for what a mess it might be later and hoods could obscure the already worsened view. Everyone had goggles, just as Kíli did, and at least half wore a leather band over their heads, with padding around the ears for the upcoming thunder. Bofur secured the flaps of his hat under his chin and gave Kili a thumbs-up.

He felt a little miffed about not being asked to help, but also relieved that he wouldn’t have to run around on a rain slick deck with them. He was reassured over and over again that his boots were good enough to keep him from slipping, but Kíli didn’t feel like testing it. Instead he just clutched his borrowed raincoat tighter and watched.

Tauriel sat down next to him after a while, not entirely soaked yet as she’d been working below deck in the storage.

“Windy,” she muttered instead of a greeting, with her hand holding her hair in place.

There was a lot of it to manage, and Kíli saw how she’d already tried to put some braids into it.

“I can help you with that,” he suggested, and Tauriel gratefully turned her back to give him access to her fiery mane.

Kíli accepted her pins and leather bands and stared at her hair for a while. He had no idea how to emulate the styles some of the crewmembers used to keep their hair out of the way, but he was certain that it involved rolling the hair into artful buns. Somehow he managed to take hold of all of Tauriel’s soft hair and with the use of the leather bands tie it so that it wouldn’t bother her.

“There, all done.”

“Thank you!”

It was… messy and not in the least bit stylish but Tauriel seemed pleased enough, and only checked whether the hair was secure and wouldn’t fly into her face.

The wind was howling louder now, and the rain seemingly came from all directions at once, even getting into Kíli and Tauriel’s shelter. The crew had slowed a little, with everyone having settled on one position to manoeuvre the ship. Lamps were lit on deck, producing an eerie blue light which was just enough to counter the clouds’ darkness and the curtain of rain. Kíli had to crane his neck to be able to see the helm’s deck from where he was sitting, to see Dwalin stand tall with only one hand on the rail, the other holding one of the lamps, and not moving, despite the occasional swaying of the ship.

It was a mystery to Kíli how he’d be able to yell enough for the ship to hear his orders, especially with most of the crew wearing protection against the noise.

A clacking sound went through the ship, somewhere deep within and above.

“Look!” Tauriel called over the noise and pointed towards the deck, where Bifur and Glóin were setting up the metal machines Kíli remembered cleaning at one point.

He had heard of the nets, but he hadn’t been sure what to expect of them.

The slowly extending metal ropes were much bigger than Kíli had imagined. They stood upright on either side of the ship, both much broader than the ship itself, both at least twice as high as the Wind Dancer from keel to the very tips of the masts. Even without any lightning striking them there were sparks dancing all along the two nets, sizzling and illuminating the massive wall of clouds the ship was passing through.

“Do you think we’ll be passing through the actual storm already?” Kíli asked and glanced at the few sparks that made their way along the nets towards the actual machines.

A light flashed behind them as Sigrid approached, keeping further away from the opening and the rain with eyes scouting the sky.

“Not yet, but it’s better to have the nets out on time. That way we won’t miss the first lightning that strikes near us, and it’s for safety as well.”

“How so?” Tauriel asked.

Sigrid glanced at her, pausing for the tiniest moment to stare at the star’s new hairdo. It was too dark and the lights were moving around them too much to really make out her expression, but Kíli felt self-conscious for a moment.

“The lightning might strike the actual ship,” Sigrid started, looking back to the deck without comment on Tauriel’s hair. “The nets pull any lightning towards them, so it’s only them that’ll get hit. Which we want anyway.”

“Could it be dangerous?” Kíli asked, trying not to edge away from the stairs.

“It’s unlikely either way, but it _could_ get bad.”

Sigrid shrugged.

“The Wind Dancer is built for flying in storms so we’re safer than other ships. We’d put the nets up either way, the double security is a good thing.”

The ship started jerking a little as a particularly harsh gust of wind hit them. Sigrid held on to a beam near the stairs and both Kíli and Tauriel followed her example. The thunder was near simultaneous with the lightning now and the nets lit up fully for a brief second. Through the rain Kíli could see that a slim figure had climbed up on the ropes of the first mast, holding a lamp to swing it about. When the light hit him right Kíli saw that it was Nori, goggles flashing along with a grin across the deck.

“What is he doing there?” Kíli asked, watching the swinging of the lamp.

"Annoying the Captain by climbing around there?" Sigrid guessed with an eye roll that was so powerful it could nearly have been audible.

“No, why is he swinging that lamp like this?”

“Ah. He’s signalling, you wouldn’t hear the Captain or Nori otherwise, so we have a system of signs for storms like this.”

They huddled closer together as the rain picked up again. Sigrid was watching with expectation so Kíli focused on the sky and the nets as well, unwilling to miss anything.

When the first lightning struck it was impossible to miss and so much bigger than Kíli would have imagined. The entire right net lit up, sparks and lightning dancing around it as if they were a writhing creature trying to escape. The entire ship was illuminated with a harsh brightness for a few seconds, before the sizzling energy shot along the ropes and disappeared out of sight. The sound held on for a while longer, along with a strange low whistle inside of the ship’s depths.

Lifur had explained before that the lightning went through the nets and into the machines powering them. From there it was channelled into the capacitors to be stored, used and later sold if need be.

The lightning struck again and again, illuminating either or both nets at once. The crew barely had to do anything but steer the Wind Dancer through the storm’s chaotic wind streams, and occasionally adjust and move the nets. Each lightning strike was the same procedure, the same sounds and sight. And Kíli couldn’t even dream of leaving for a better shelter before all of it was over.

*

The next morning was completely different from the first day they’d spent on the Wind Dancer.

A fog had followed the storm, and somehow it was big enough to engulf the Wind Dancer completely and make it look as if the ship was suspended in a white nothingness, even more so than the clouds had made it look. While it was nearly frightening for the first few minutes, Kíli decided that he liked the mood it created, even if it made everything a little chilly and damp.

Everyone was a little tired, but they’d still gotten up early. Unlike the last one, this storm had started early afternoon and hadn’t stretched through the entire night. Bombur had provided the usual celebratory breakfast baskets and the crewmembers that were already on deck ate quietly, sitting around or walking to stare out into the fog, even though there was nothing to be seen.

Kíli leaned against the rail and chewed on a sausage roll, and staring out into the sky. He didn’t even hear Tauriel approaching when she did.

“Morning,” she said with a smile, comb still in hand as she smoothed out the last of her hair.

It looked much better with only the minimal braids than it did with the mess Kíli had made. At least there was no sign of knots or tangles afterwards, and Tauriel was even wearing a different shirt than the day before. As if there hadn’t been a storm at all. Meanwhile Kíli’s hair was a mess of tangles and he had realized that it had gotten too long to just leave as it was. He had given up on trying to comb it the moment it first started to hurt to run his fingers through it, and the shirt he wore was a bit stiff from getting drenched the day before. A tiny part of Kíli was ashamed to look like that in front of Tauriel, who’d taken care to look presentable.

“Your hair's nice,” he managed to say to overcome his brief embarrassment.

Tauriel smiled and from behind her Kíli could hear Mirra clicking her tongue about it.

“Much unlike yours, Kíli.”

Tauriel had a bright smile for her as well as Kíli felt his cheeks heat up.

“He helped me braid it up to stay neat yesterday.”

“Oh did he?” Mirra raised an eyebrow and smirked, making Kíli’s cheeks burn even more. “Then he should use those skills on himself.”

She didn’t stay to say anything else on the matter and moved on to walk below deck.

“I don’t want to braid my hair,” Kíli muttered and Tauriel could only laugh at him.

“It’d be easier than eventually having to cut all of this off,” she teased and ruffled his messy hair briefly. “I can help you comb it out later. Nori was showing me oils to keep hair soft and tangle-free, I’m sure it’d help even you.”

Kíli pouted at the thought. He half wanted to cut his hair off to be short as it was in England again. It wasn’t proper to keep it so long, after all, and yet the look it gave him pleased him. It was true though; if Nori was as vain about his hair as Kíli thought he was, it paid off, as nobody save Tauriel took as much care to keep theirs neat at all times.

Tauriel sensed his discomfort and let it go, instead leaning against the rail as well and taking one of the rolls Kíli had snatched earlier.

They stood quietly and watched the fog, enjoying the crisp air and their breakfast.

Slowly the sight grew better and Kíli was certain that he saw rocks and even treetops far below, near blurred in the wisps of fog. It was too far away to see details, but also high enough that Kíli’s brief worries of the Wind Dancer flying into something were chased away.

After a while Tauriel tensed and squinted into the distance.

“I think I see something,” she said, and Kíli started looking for it as well.

Tauriel’s sight was much better than his, considering that she was a star and used to looking at things far away, but soon he could see the fog clear up and blue sky appear in the distance.

The next thing he saw were enormous shadows moving in the air.

“I see!” he cried out, surprised and half afraid all at once.

Around them the crew spotted it as well, excited and surprised calls travelling over deck to alert everyone else. Nobody seemed afraid though.

Finally one of the _things_ appeared in front of the Wind Dancer, and the breeze cleared up the fog enough to see.

They were creatures, beautiful blue and white iridescent beasts floating through the air in a way Kili had never seen _any_ animal move. Their bodies had the shape of teardrops, similar to illustrations of whales he had once seen, but sleeker and longer in their body, looking weightless despite their mass. Instead of fins they had long fine wings extending all along their sides and on the ends of their bodies like tails, enormous and barely moving in wave-like motions to keep them in the air as if it was nothing. Their skin was shining like dew drops in the morning light, and big dark eyes watched the ship from a distance. The biggest were nearly as long as the Wind Dancer’s hull. 

“What is that,” Kíli whispered, looking to Tauriel who only shook her head and didn’t look away from the creatures.

They were beautiful, more and more appearing out of the fog as they floated along the ship. Kíli could see now that they had legs as well, pressed flat against their bodies as they flew, and apart from something that looked like extremely long feathers on their head stretching towards the Wind Dancer none of the creatures showed any sign of acknowledging its presence.

“Where did they come from,” Tauriel whispered.

Bifur’s heavy steps moved behind them and he grumbled something to get their attention, before pointing down. There on the cliffs below Kíli could see the shine of more such creatures, curled up on the rocks like birds resting on a tree.

“They’ve gone flying after the storm,” Bofur whispered as he approached his cousin. “Usually you don’t see Skites up and about, and not so many at once.”

They moved on eventually, but the entire crew kept their eyes on the creatures. Kíli somehow felt at peace just watching those gentle giants make their way, and only the smallest ones briefly coming closer to the ship. They were so gentle and beautiful in their movements, graceful and as if they were just part of the sky-

“Sigrid,” Nori’s voice was the loudest anyone had gotten that moment, though he was only speaking loud enough for her to hear from where he was standing in the door to the Captain’s rooms. “Go to the harpoon and be ready.”

Kíli bristled at the command and turned to glare towards where Nori stood, eyes narrowed on the Skites. Sigrid didn’t hesitate though, and walked over to the prow where a few heavy tarpaulins had covered up a harpoon. She moved it to aim towards the majority of the Skites, but she didn’t fire and neither did Nori give the order to do so.

“Why would he…” he muttered.

Nothing happened but Sigrid remained with the harpoon and Nori was still keeping an eye on the creatures. Eventually Dwalin walked out as well, and the first mate whispered something to him, gesturing first at the sky and then at the harpoon. Dwalin nodded and to Kíli’s disappointment he didn’t demand that Nori take back the order. Instead he just walked over to Kíli and Tauriel to stand and watch by their sides.

“Is it really necessary to shoot any of them?” Kíli asked, brow furrowing. “They aren’t doing anything.”

Both he and Tauriel looked up at Dwalin, who only shrugged.

“Skites don’t do anything, but they’re also dumb as far as ships go. They’re not used to big things that aren’t them and aren’t attacking, so if one were to come too close and ram us, the Wind Dancer would crash for sure.”

Kíli shuddered at the thought.

“Will shooting prevent that?” Tauriel asked, hands clenching on the rail. She threw the Skites a look full of worry.

“No,” Dwalin answered. “If one comes too close we’ll make noise and they’ll leave us be. If one comes at us too fast and with too much determination, we’ll shoot and then the rest will scatter for long enough to let us escape. It never comes to that but I won’t risk my ship based on what usually happens and what doesn’t.”

They stood and watched, Kíli’s enjoyment of it dampened by the thought of the danger the Skites could pose. Not to mention that he really didn’t want to see any of them get shot out of the sky simply for being there.

The Wind Dancer and the Skites flew side by side for about five more minutes, before the ship passed the area the creatures inhabited and one by one the giants fell back and returned to circling over their resting place.

Kíli let out a sigh of relief that nothing had happened, and both Tauriel and Dwalin immediately relaxed.

Sigrid covered the harpoon again, looking pale, and Nori walked over to her to briefly pat her shoulder. Then everyone returned to their tasks or to simply lazing about after the catch of the previous night.

Once Dwalin was at a safe distance Kíli glared at Nori’s back where he stood at the opposite site of the ship.

“I still can’t believe he’d just… would you shoot if he gave the orders?”

Tauriel hummed in thought, still watching the Skites where they sparkled in the distance.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt any of them, they’re so gentle and calm. But if the crew was in danger I would, without question. If _you_ were in danger...yes." Her eyes were hard, brows furrowed slightly in both displeasure and determination.

Kíli looked down at the rocks below, frowning. The thought of doing so rubbed him the wrong way, and he could not imagine that any of those creatures would have caused any harm. But what if they really could break the ship on accident?

“I suppose you’re right,” he admitted.

They stood quietly after that, and stayed at the rail for as long as they could still see the cliffs and the Skites in the distance.


	32. It’s not theft if they stole it first

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some talk of sex in this

"Alright you land rats, we're heading for Ered Luin," announced Dwalin as he strode the deck, and the entire crew let out a cheer at the prospect of docking in a city. Returning to the helm's deck, Dwalin smirked and went back to navigating the ship, while Nori just leaned against the rail and winked.

“’S gonna be some good old fashioned city fun,” he snickered as he sauntered through the crew, though Kíli didn’t get the joke.

As they approached the city, Kili stood at the rail, trying to keep his mouth closed as he took in the sight. Never before had Kíli seen a city so big, sprawling out from the base of a small mountain range with buildings and towers and halls bigger than anything his own hometown had. The houses looked like they ought to be old, but they seemed new, with trees and ivy everywhere, and it seemed like he was looking down on a sea of mismatched rooftops in various shades of brown and red.

Kíli had never been to a big city, he had to admit that, but the pictures and drawings he had seen in books, of London and Rome and other places he’d never thought to visit had made him believe that he would be prepared for such a sight. 

He had been mistaken, and despite himself he found himself staring.

“Have you _ever_ seen something like it?” he whispered at Tauriel, who’d walked up to see what he was looking at.

She glanced over the nearing city, brow briefly furrowing in confusion.

“Well… yes...” she said slowly, “but not from up close?”

Kíli sighed at that, shaking his head.

“I’ve never seen a city so big,” he muttered.

“It’s vast, of course,” Nori’s voice said, way too close.

Kíli stood straight, angry with himself that he once again hadn’t heard the man approach. He’s seen the first mate sneak up to Bofur and Lifur more than once to remind them of their duties when they were slacking too obviously. It did make Kíli feel a tiny bit guilty that he was just standing around instead of helping the crew prepare for landing, even if he still was a bit resentful for the shock.

But Nori didn’t seem to have any orders for Kíli and Tauriel; instead he joined them in watching the city.

“I spent a big part of my youth there,” Nori went on.

He snorted as Kíli and Tauriel started looking around, eying the beautiful mansions and warehouses and gardens closest to the Wind Dancer’s position.

“Not _right there_. Just here and there, depending on where my feet carried me. Ered Luin is the largest city of Erebor’s Kingdom, for certain; all sorts of folks live here. It’s old as well; most of this is restored ruins from Ages past.”

“I’ve never seen a city this large,” Kíli said, more to Tauriel, and Nori raised his eyebrow.

“There’s cities I like more. But it was the closest to our position, and let’s say they pay good prices for lightning, and offer other nice opportunities for business.”

The pair gave him a curious look but Nori just smirked and returned to his work.

Soon the Wind Dancer reached what Kíli assumed was the port. A broad river ran through the city and there were few buildings around, most appearing to be warehouses. There was a river port, and near it tall and slim towers built of wood, as opposed to the solid rock of everything else. They looked similar to the docks of the only other port Kíli knew, only that they were much closer to the ground and connected to each other through small bridges, besides also having platforms underneath the actual walkways, for the ships to hover above.

A couple of other ships were already docking there, and Kíli tried to guess what they would be like. He saw a smaller but bulkier one than the Wind Dancer, with mighty sails, a few with a longer but slimmer built, and ones that were painted in gorgeous colours.

“Look at that one,” Tauriel whispered.

The biggest ship currently in port wasn’t as big as the descriptions of galley ships Kíli had read of, but it seemed enormous next to the Wind Dancer. The sails were a pale yellow, and the hull was painted in deep blue and gold, decorated richly all over. It even seemed as if parts of the patterns were actually gilded.

“Gorgeous,” Kíli whispered back, and Tauriel could only nod with wide eyes.

They nearly missed the Wind Dancer docking as well, as they stared towards the unfamiliar ship. They only returned their attention to their own crew when Dwalin’s voice tore them out of their idleness.

“Right, listen up!”

The Captain stood in front of the lightning capacitors, arms folded over his chest. He looked around at his crew, making sure that everyone was paying their full attention.

“Bombur, I want you to pick some helpers to go down to the river. Looks like we’ll be having fish for as long as it lasts, if the day’s catch was good. Mirra, Glóin, make sure you have all you need to deal with the port master. Bifur, you go down to the maintenance walk.”

Everyone let out a firm “aye” and went to work on their task.

Kíli glanced around, unsure where he was supposed to join.

Tauriel said something about helping Bombur with his task, since she wanted to go to the river, but Kíli didn’t really feel like going there. Raw fish made him queasy, though he'd never admit it.

“If you want you can come with me,” Dwalin said as he noticed Kíli on his way to the gangplank. “In a legal port the captain has more to do than just haggle over prices, so I'll warn you upfront that it'll be dull."

No matter how dull it was, Kíli felt a little proud about getting to accompany the Captain anywhere. He nodded eagerly and Dwalin smirked.

“Come along then.”

The Captain, Nori and Glóin led the way, and Kíli followed. He subtly straightened his vest and tried to put his hair in some order, seeing as the three men with him were wearing their full gear and Glóin had even redone his braids. It wouldn’t do to embarrass them by looking like a shabby ship-boy.

The walk down the tower led over a winding staircase, platform to platform. There were ropes hanging along its sides, and small cranes were ready to be used on heavy provision or wares. On the ground there was a paved road leading to a large building closest to the ships. Next to it there was only a wall and gates, beyond which the city of Ered Luin truly started.

Upon entering the building the Wind Dancer’s little group arrived in a long room with several tables, and a counter at the very end of it. Some people were already sitting around, separated in their small groups, drinking tea and talking. A small woman stood behind the counter, jotting down figures in a large book, and she visibly perked up as she saw the new arrival.

“Oh ho, Dwalin! Haven’t seen a trace of the Wind Dancer in quite a while!”

She put away the book and walked around her counter to greet Dwalin properly, shaking his hand and bowing her head to his companions in turn. Her greying brown hair was braided up into a tight bun, and she wore a wide dark dress with a grey and white overcoat that looked like it was part of a uniform instead of a lady’s dress.

“And now we’re here with quite the catch,” Dwalin replied, a small smile on his lips.

The woman laughed again, making her sound and look like a little owl.

“Of course, as you always do. Let me mark it all down for you.”

She scurried back to her place behind the counter and pulled out a smaller booklet, filled with dates and information on ships that had entered the port.

Dwalin turned to her and they started discussing the Wind Dancer’s ware and the port's docking fees,, along with the taxes of the trade. Glóin joined in, half a merchant himself when he wasn’t busy being a sky sailor.

None of that had happened the last time the Wind Dancer had entered a port, and Nori must have seen Kíli’s slight frown.

“Proper port in one of the King’s cities,” he said with a vague gesture, and Kíli nearly had to snort at that. Of course the little tent town wouldn’t care for such things.

As they waited for the details to be discussed Kíli took in the room. The other people there seemed to be the crews of some of the other ships, all in their own groups as they chatted and drank and ate from sandwich platters.

“Over there, that’s the captain of the True Blue,” Nori started to point out. “Her ship is the small fat one, it’s a freighter to carry heavy weight, not the fastest but if they pick a speed they will keep at it no matter their load or the weather. Very steady, very reliable, even if they don’t like taking risks.”

The woman in question was a stocky, broad shouldered captain with a calm face, the perfect impression of of somebody who was practical and steady. Even without Nori’s explanation Kíli would have guessed right if trying to connect her to any of the ships he’d seen.

“That one over there… well he’s a fool I’d love to see lose his entire load if possible.”

The man in question sat with his crew and Kíli could only assume that he was the captain of the heavily decorated ship he’d been so impressed by earlier. The captain was dressed in a dapper blue suit with golden trim, matching his ship in shade and look. Golden clasps held back his braided hair, woven close to his head but curling freely over his shoulders in a way that must have taken quite some time to style. The glinting of gold ornaments from his earlobes and fingers seemed excessive to Kíli, but somehow it still looked elegant.

He was looking towards Dwalin, eyebrows slightly raised and his lips curling into a slight smile under a small curled moustache. Nori let out a strange noise, but didn’t speak further as Kíli glanced at him.

“There, this should be settled then,” the port’s account master said and closed her book. “Your load will be lowered for you and we can go see about the merchants halls and any provisions you want. Will you need any materials or workers for maintenance?”

Dwalin straightened his back and shook his head.

“No. My crew will fix anything that needs it and if we do need anything I will send somebody to you.”

“Very well, then let’s go.”

The woman took her notebook and went to lead the group back out. Just as they did so the captain of the fancy big ship rose from his table as well, the crew following suit.

“Ah, Dwalin…” he said, his smirk getting bigger.

“I wouldn’t have known you were here, I barely recognized the Wind Dancer out the window.”

“Bereg” Dwalin replied simply, “as always, couldn’t miss the Galador even if you tried to.”

Bereg’s eyes narrowed his smirk. Somehow his elegance now seemed lesser to Kíli, a certain gaudy sliminess taking its place in the impression he made.

“Is your ship fine?” he asked, the concern thick in his voice. “Poor thing looks like she’s falling apart.”

His eyes moved slowly over Dwalin’s body, giving him an up and down inspection.

“Be careful not to overwork yourself to a similar fate.”

Nori stiffened where Dwalin still stared back in a deadly calm that Kíli wished he could radiate as well.

“Ah, so nice to see you worry,” the first mate said, voice sickly sweet. “We’ll take your example and patch our Captain right up with frills and heavy decor to keep him standing uptight- I mean upright.”

Bereg’s eyes moved to Nori, the disdain showing clearly on his face, even if Kíli thought he was still trying to hide it. The captain of the Galador looked over Nori and to Glóin, whom he didn’t pay much attention to, and then very briefly at Kíli who was dismissed almost immediately.

“I’m sure the King must appreciate you greatly for giving you such a task and such a crew,” Bereg drawled, tone light and polite still. “I haven’t seen you in court for so long, I hope you get your time off to stay in Erebor. Alas, we seem to miss each other each time you do.”

Dwalin was still staring quietly, completely still when Kíli glanced at him in worry, though his expression grew tighter.

“See you around,” Bereg said with a curt nod and a slight curling of his lips he couldn’t quite hide.

“Indeed,” Dwalin replied, one single quiet word but a threat in the tone and his solid stance.

Bereg must have felt it too, as his nose scrunched up and he motioned his crew to follow him out.

“What a prick,” Glóin hissed. “Not changed a bit.”

“Still thinks he’s a big deal because Thorin’s inviting him to court meetings and parties along with every other noble or notable person.”

The port’s account master let out an uncomfortable little cough.

“Sh-shall we go on then?”

Dwalin nodded, “Yes of course.”

They walked out of the house and Dwalin nodded at Nori before he and Glóin followed the woman. Kíli couldn’t help but turn his eyes to the ships above. What Nori had said about the captains of each ship really made him realize just how true the similarities between them and their ships were. The Galador no longer looked all that impressive under all of her pomp for once. 

The Wind Dancer was by far the more gorgeous ship with her subdued decorations and her beautiful wooden interior. She wasn’t all that much like Dwalin though. She was strong and looked as if nothing could break her, but she also had a sleek and narrow built, more elegant and sharper than the Captain was for sure. 

Nori stopped in his tracks and placed a hand on Kíli’s shoulder.

“Would you be interested in helping me with Dwalin’s special orders?”

Kíli raised his eyebrow.

“Special? What is it, he didn’t say anything.”

“It’s not really orders he’d bark out loud with the ship anywhere near a port. But put it this way, we’ve got to defend Dwalin’s honour from bastards like that prissy little lordling. His, and the King’s as well.”

"I thought you said you didn't give a...what was it, warg's piss about royalty?" recited Kili skeptically. 

Nori rolled his eyes. 

"I don't, to be fair, but the Captain does, and who am I to refuse orders? Especially if they're to bruise a nob's ego a bit." 

Kíli still had no idea what was going on but he answered Nori's grin with one of his own. He had the utmost respect for Dwalin and the idea of somehow getting back at the stuck up Captain Bereg was appealing. The secrecy made the excitement take hold of him even before anything even happened.

Nori grinned at him, sharp and dangerous and for the first time Kíli didn’t feel like he should be afraid.

“Then let us go.”

*

Kíli had never thought that he would like being a sailor as much as he did now. Of course he’d want the adventures, but here he was, about to do something good, putting all his efforts to please a man he admired and help him do the King’s bidding. It felt good, and more important than anything Kíli would have been doing in his hometown at any point.

His father would be proud for sure. Ned and everyone else would surely be impressed as well to see Kíli working for the Crown and the navy, even if the Crown wasn’t that of England or any part of their world, and though the navy wasn’t really connected to the sea at all.

Nori led Kíli through the port between the tall towers and the docked ships. Kíli didn’t pay much attention to where they were going, and he found it difficult to distinguish the ships from below and from such a distance.

There already was a small group of crew members waiting for Nori to arrive next to one of the staircases leading to the ship. Bofur waved and indicated for everyone to move up.

“Let’s get going,” Nori ordered, and everyone moved, but not to the stairs but to the side.

A small part of the tower was encased in scaffolding and thin wooden walls, barely more than boards, which formed small passageways. Ladders, stairs and planks led up in turn, and the crew filed into the space.

“This isn’t the Wind Dancer’s dock?” Kíli asked, surprised.

“Not at all,” Nori said with a wink before slipping towards the ladders and out of sight.

Kíli shrugged and followed, with nothing better to do than what he was asked.

It was much more exhausting to climb up the narrow ladders and steps than the staircase would have been, but Kíli figured that the crew would have its reasons. Once he heard steps very close by, coming from the actual staircase, just on the other side of the thin boarded walls, and in the dim light he saw that the crew paused briefly but otherwise didn’t mind. They climbed until finally Bofur at the very front opened a latch and light streamed into the small tunnel.

Kíli had been prepared for anything, but the sight of a ship's hull only a few feet above him was a surprise. It was the Galador, unmistakable with her blue paint and the lavish golden decorations.

They had arrived on a platform stretching completely under the ship, with tall walls on the sides. Each step sounded hollow and Kíli realized that they must be one of the maintenance decks.

“Why are we here?” he whispered as the crew members scuttled quietly under the ship’s keel to where it was closest to the ground.

“Our dear Captain Gildedbraids is a rich man,” Nori drawled, voice quiet as well. “He’s a merchant and a little noble, though Maker knows how or why _that_ happened. But you see, he’s not making money in nice ways at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Harad and the Orocarni Mountains have the nicest materials you can’t get in the North of Erebor. And Erebor has nice and cold things that they really like down there. Since forever, the Line of Durin and the rulers of the nomadic tribes and southern kingdoms had treaties and agreements on how the trade of these things will happen.”

There was thick rope netting all along the underside of the ship and stretching upwards, for accessibility and maintenance during flight, just like on the Wind Dancer. Kíli listened to Nori as he watched the crew climb up along the netting on the side of the Galador and disappear through the portholes.

“’S a lot of money to be made. ‘S also makes people want to make even _more_ money. Thorin and the High Queen of the Orocarni have a good deal going, but if you slip past them and avoid taxes… Lets just say neither our dear King nor the Lady are pleased by this.”

“But what does this have to do with…” Kíli gestured at the Galador “This?”

“Bereg and some of his friends in the South are getting rather cocky about their high amount of smuggling. Getting rich and all high and mighty as well; thought we wouldn’t notice.”

Nori smiled, the image of perfect innocence as he shrugged.

“Let us say that Thorin and the High Queen wouldn’t mind for the illegal goods to be taken away from those dirty little thieves.”

Kíli’s mouth fell open.

“So you _steal_? What… how does that help?!”

Nori gestured for Kíli be quieter.

“It helps ‘cause then those bastards will have less of the riches. It helps if it ruins their ability to invest in smuggling for a while, and it can even help expose them. Our King is quite pleased with taking anything the especially cocky smugglers have, and the High Queen does the same with anyone caught in her own territory.”

Somebody’s arm reappeared out of the porthole and made a gesture. Nori smiled and made an inviting motion.

“Let’s get going,” he said and before Kíli could protest he was already rushing towards the ship, light on his feet and barely making a sound.

Kíli stared after him and them up at what little sky he could see between the wall and the ship. And here he had thought… Dwalin didn't seem like the sort of captain to tolerate such secretive business. Yet here his crew was, doing what could only be described as piracy.

Still it wouldn’t do to just stand around and do _nothing_ , so Kíli ran as well, making as little sound as he could before he started climbing up the rope. The climb was nowhere near as easy as the rest of the crew had made it look, and Kili was panting by the time Bofur's helping hands pulled him inside.

Inside it was warm and dark, making it hard to see anything at all. Kíli was gently led to the side as his eyes got used to the lighting. The first thing he spotted were stacks of carefully rolled carpets, sorted by size and colour and quickly dwindling in size as the Wind Dancer’s crew pulled them down one by one and then carried as much as possible to the porthole and out.

There were boxes and small sacks of sweet smelling things and spices that took Kíli’s breath away when he walked closer to take a sniff.

“So what are we doing,” he whispered to Nori who took note of everything in sight.

“We find everything that doesn't fit their official cargo registration and doesn’t have a royal seal on it. Then we bring it down to those who run it back to the Wind Dancer.”

Kíli nodded and then was handed a few sacks to bring to the porthole. It was difficult to navigate the storage room in the dim light with so much weight, but Kíli was determined to do his work.

It was surprising how quickly the stacks all around them grew smaller, and Kíli was nervous to be discovered. Somebody was on watch though, carefully listening to any sound from the many decks above, and none came. The ship was too big and there were too few crew members currently aboard, so nobody heard the Wind Dancer’s crew as they tried to stay quiet.

Spices and carpets and bulks of whisper soft textiles were passed from hand to hand, with brief delays as the crew members ran to the Wind Dancer across one of the many little bridges between the docks. It was surprising how quick it went, and Kíli even started to worry that there would be no room on the Wind Dancer for all of what they stole. Nobody else shared the concern so Kíli did his best to ignore all of his worries and the brief guilt for stealing in the first place.

Finally Nori waved for everyone to slow down. The storage room was now considerably emptier than it was before.

“Go see if there’s anything else we need,” he whispered and everyone hurried to the corners of the room.

“Take what you want,” Bofur clarified as he saw Kíli looking lost.

Most started to look through the silks and carpets for specific things they liked, taking their time to examine them. Others started piling up more of the spices and Bofur briefly disappeared between the remaining piles and returned with an armful of elegant curved weapons, with gold and gems decorating their hilts.

Kíli moved past the silks to where several small boxes and chests stood, so far untouched. He gently opened one of the chests to be greeted with a pile of silken frilled shirts. The next contained dresses that surely were fit for the grandest of balls, and a few boxes next to that contained rolled up ribbons and shoes with tiny crystals along their heels.

Kíli opened box after box to look at the things inside, just admiring them but feeling like they weren’t of any use to him or anyone he knew. This was all fit for the company of Kings, not just to feel pretty or look at.

The next few boxes were decorated with small pieces of cut glass. Inside they were separated into parts and inlaid with velvet, to cushion the jewellery inside. The first box contained earrings that surely would be too heavy to wear with the giant gems on them; the next had a row of rings, and in the one after, brooches.

Kíli examined each until he found one with hair clasps. They were richly decorated as well but for the first time it seemed like functionality had been the main concern before the way they looked. They were made of dark metals decorated with a large amount of smaller gems, which shone prettily as Kíli turned the box in his hands. 

One in particular stood out; small white and blue gems glinted on a dark, near-black metal frame, slightly curved. There was a hole in either end of the clasp, through which a thick metal pin rested. It would surely suit Tauriel's tastes perfectly.

He glanced up around to the others. The crew was still examining what was to be looted and Bofur was handing out armfuls of weapons. Nori stood between the chests and was picking out the clothes, looking them over and then neatly folding them into a bag, and he was too busy examining one of the ball gowns to look over at Kíli. He’d _said_ it was fine though.

Kíli picked out the blue and white one carefully and wrapped it in a handkerchief so he wouldn’t damage it before he even got the chance to gift it.

“Come, help me carry these,” Bofur whispered to him as soon as he returned to the main section of the storage room.

Before Kíli could protest a bunch of gold and silver scimitars were shoved at him and it was all he could do not to drop them. He stared at the things in his arms, trying to balance them with the hairpiece still clutched in his hand. Bofur clasped his back and motioned him to walk over to the porthole.

“Why do you even need these?” Kíli tried to say without groaning under the load.

“Never know why you’ll need anything,” Bofur replied cheerfully. “And these materials are way too precious to be disregarded.”

Kíli could barely roll his eyes at that. He tried his best to carry the weapons and he moved slowly. Still, it was dark around them and the scimitars were obscuring his view of the ground, and before long he felt his foot catch on something heavy in his path. Of all the items, Tauriel's hair clasp was the one he instinctively tried to protect as he stumbled. As he lost his balance, he lost his grip on the heavy weapons in his arms.

The clatter of metal shattered the silence, and must have been heard throughout the ship.

Kíli froze in shock and stared at the things he dropped, completely stiff and desperately willing for the noise to calm down. The crew froze as well, all eyes on him. No one moved, no one said a word.

Muffled voices were heard from above and Bofur’s whispered “They heard it!” tore everyone from their trance.

“Everybody _out_!” Nori snapped, throwing his bag over his shoulder and waving for everyone to run.

They only paused to take the lightest of what they’d been trying to steal and then everyone dashed for the exit. The climb out of the porthole was hard with the sudden fear of being caught and the rush of excitement made Kíli clumsy.

They were out in a few seconds, faster than anyone would take to reach the storage room from all the way up on the main deck. Nori led everyone in a sprint towards a small door and a bridge made of rough cables, all crisscrossing between the docks. He knew the way thankfully, and all Kíli had to do was follow. There were shouts heard behind them but at that point Nori’s group was gone and it would take some time before anyone thought to point fingers at the Wind Dancer.

Kíli was out of breath and his heartbeat was rushing in his ears by the time they reached the next dock and a small door leading to the Wind Dancer. They were greeted by a similar set up as the Galador’s had been, with the loot being hoisted up into the Wind Dancer’s own storage.

“Guard the door,” Nori called, breathless as well, after the last of his team managed to get to safety.

Bifur, who stood near it, nodded and raised his vicious looking spear, glaring at the door.

“Few really think about the possibility of a maintenance deck being used for theft,” Nori explained to Kíli. “And it’s enough to just have Bifur here.”

Kíli looked around at everyone who’d had to run just because of his mistake, and he and awaited Nori's inevitable anger with trepidation. Instead the first mate started to laugh.

“That was a _good_ one,” he said, grinning at Kíli.

“It’s my fault they’ll discover the theft so quickly,” Kíli muttered, still feeling like he ought to be scolded.

“Ah, whatever,” Nori waved him off. “It’s not like they can yell about it. Near everything we took is smuggled ware, and they still have stuff in their storage. They’d have to admit to that before accusing us, and even if it comes to the worst Dwalin’s influence and his connection to His Majesty will help. Maybe. Won’t be needed either way.”

He turned to Bofur and kicked some of the few dropped weapons towards him.

“And _you_ will carry those things up personally. How many times do I have to remind you about carrying what you can hold?”

Bofur tipped his hat with a wink.

“We can’t all be criminal masterminds, sir.”

It just earned him more weapons being kicked his way.

Kíli couldn’t help but grin at it. He had become a pirate, and despite such a blunder he felt that the excitement was very much worth it. 

It occurred to him that he was holding something very tightly, and he loosened his fist to find the handkerchief-wrapped hair piece. He blinked at it in disbelief, before chuckling at his good luck and tossing the clasp into the air, catching it again and stowing it safely in the breast pocket of his vest. 

He couldn't wait to tell Tauriel of his adventure.

*

The Wind Dancer had left port before the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Dwalin had seen to everything being settled before Captain Bereg could start any problems, and from what Kíli had heard there had been quite a commotion on the Galador. What Nori had predicted had been true though, there was no way Bereg could even _mention_ the stolen goods without pulling any attention to his criminal activities, thus enabling _Nori_ in his.

He might have tried some sort of sabotage or revenge or even an actual open action against Dwalin, but nobody felt like waiting around for that.

Now the crew was taking it easy as the Wind Dancer slowly moved with the gentle evening breeze. There were small fishcakes to go around and barrels from the river’s fishers to use for the upcoming days, and Dwalin had even ordered for some ale and mead to be brought up for the crew to enjoy. It was a perfect way to end the day, and Kíli sat by himself on the stairs leading up to the helm’s deck, a cup of ale in one hand and a fishcake in the other.

Everyone was chatting and enjoying the treats in groups, some examined the loot or bragging about the narrow escape. Joining in would be fun but Kili felt in need of a brief moment to himself before socialising. Not everyone was with others as well. Dwalin stood on the opposite side of the deck, higher up towards the helm’s deck than Kíli, and Tauriel stood alone as Sigrid went to fetch more drinks for them both. She was looking up at the darkening orange and pink sky, where the first stars were beginning to twinkle. He wondered if the stars she saw were her family or friends, or if she could tell each one apart at all; to him stars looked the same, just little pinpricks of light, but he supposed that people on the ground all looked the same to stars, being so far below. He wondered if she missed them, if she was homesick and wanted to go back. He wasn’t even sure if he felt the same about his own home, anymore.

He’d never thought he’d come to love the ship this much, had never imagined that he actually would be _part_ of adventures like this. He’d read about the navy and adventures on high sea, had sometimes fantasized about travelling as he yearned for the world beyond his little town, when Philip told him stories of his own. _This_ was so much better.

It made him forget, at time, that he had promised to return home.

He couldn't quite remember how long ago he had left, the night of the picnic where he made his promise to bring Ned a star.

He missed his father, but not so much that he’d want to return. More than anything, he wished his father were with him to share in his adventures, or at least be _in Arda_ so that Kili would never have to be away from his new companions for too long. Thoughts of Ned only made Kili upset, seeing as Kili's adventures were not the sorts Ned would approve of. Kili was confident that _eventually_ he'd find something Ned would appreciate, and that one day he could finally bring his sweetheart to this place of wonder, where things were not only more fun, but where they could love each other openly.

Which strangely enough was what was on Kíli’s mind so much it worried him.

He glanced over the rail to where Nori, Bofur and Mirra were relaxing around near Kili's spot on the stairs. They were a little bit drunk already, and Kíli really didn’t want to make it obvious he was eavesdropping. It was impossible not to hear them talk, and even if their discussion made Kíli’s ears burn he couldn’t quite tear himself away and leave.

“I promise you, there’s nothing better than having somebody use their hands and mouth on you,” Mirra told Bofur, pointing her jug of ale at him. “Don’t even pretend that you’re _that_ generous to not prefer it!”

Bofur just shook his head and sipped his own drink.

“Oh you _know_ he’d be the sort,” Nori threw in, laughing.

It had gone on for quite a while, and at first Kili had not understood their innuendo, or their frank discussions of the specifics of _bedding someone_. He'd often ignored such talk coming from the lads in his town, and the euphemisms used by the trio below were slightly different

He didn’t know whether to be mortified or whether to listen in fascination. Very few crew members paid them any mind, and most had long turned to their own conversations, leaving the three in relative isolation. No wonder, with the food and the drink being far enough away not to linger. Only Lifur had tried joining their group, before Mirra had send him away for being way too young to listen to his aunt and uncle talk, with strict instructions to keep young Borra away for the time being. Given Dwalin's dark glare, he was listening as well, though he was obviously not bothered by the topic enough to order them to drop it.

“Listen, dearie, I don’t mind some sweet little mouth working on me, not at all,” Bofur started, as soon as he’d taken a sufficiently large swig from his drink. His cheeks were red from it already. “But the sensation isn’t all that good to me, you know? Hands are nice, or rubbing together. It’s _much_ more enjoyable to suck off somebody else and see them lose themselves and relax and just be happy. Gets me off as well.”

Mirra hummed.

“Hmm, valid point, but there’s nothing quite as good as seeing your lover between your legs, eyes dancing with the embers of passion as they meet yours, before turning to his task and then slowly-"

“Oh no stop this!” Bofur whined, hitting Mirra in the shoulder. “Stop it, I know you’re talking about my brother, I do _not_ need to know.”

Mirra and Nori both cackled at his indignation.

Kíli watched as Bofur muttered something under his breath. Eventually he turned to Nori, raising his eyebrows.

“What about you then? What’s better?”

The two turned their attention to their first mate, who was just drinking from his cup. He had to set it down to think, and then a sharp grin spread over his face.

“You want to know?” he asked, voice a low purr eyeing the both of them conspiratorially.

“Of course!”

“You’re the only one who’s not stated his opinion yet!”

Nori smiled and rolled his shoulders.

“Mm, it depends, doesn’t it?”

Mirra and Bofur edged a little closer though Nori hadn’t lowered his voice at all. Kíli glanced around and apart from Dwalin, who was still glaring at nothing, nobody was there to hear. 

“Both is quite good, if the one you’re with does it _right_. Though right _now_ I’d prefer lying back and having someone pleasure me as well as they possibly can.”

Mirra nodded in victory but didn’t say anything, instead waiting in anticipation as Nori looked like he’d go on.

“Just spread out naked on a pile of silks and pillows, in a giant bed fit for Kings… Imagine having someone grip your hips and your sides hard, enough to bruise, just a touch to make you feel _good_ and tease and keep you from twitching around, to keep you down to relax.”

Nori ran his hands from his hips up over his sides for emphasis, and the three grinned at the thought. 

“They do _all_ of the work here. Just sucking and working to bring you as much pleasure as you can possibly get out of it. And nothing else matters to them, and for just a night _you_ are all they care for, and it’s just _your_ pleasure that matters for the moment.”

Nori’s eyes were unfocused for just a moment, his smile losing some of its sharpness.

Mirra let out a soft sigh and nodded in agreement, while Bofur laughed and tore Nori from his fantasies.

“See, that’s exactly how I want my bedmates to feel,” Bofur told her and Nori rolled his eyes and picked his drink back up. Then Bofur winked at the first mate.

“What about it, you and me could get together sometime…? You want someone else to do all the work and it just so happens I enjoy pleasing-" 

Nori kicked Bofur’s leg hard and hissed, though his sneer wasn’t particularly malicious.

“In your dreams, Bofur, only in your dreams.”

“Aye, doubt I’d survive that in reality,” Bofur commented and raised his cup in a toast. “Not sure I’d want to live with the damage if I did survive.”

Nori glared but Mirra laughed at them and the conversation was dropped.

Dwalin snorted quietly and shook his head, though none of the trio saw it. Kíli watched nervously as Dwalin stomped down the stairs and disappear below, and then glanced down to where the others were sitting. He should ask…

Kíli edged down to them, as they started talking about the merits of mead over ale. Mirra was the first to spot him and he took his breath, willing himself to speak up instead of just smiling and running off.

“Can I ask you something? A-about… what you just…”

All three were looking at him now, and Kíli braced himself.

“I heard in Arda it’s ok to… if a man and another man are together like a man and a woman. I think it is. But… is that true?”

Mirra and Bofur glanced at each other and then at Nori, who was just looking at Kíli with a puzzled frown as if he wasn’t quite sure what the question was. Finally Mirra looked back at him and nodded.

“Yes, men take lovers among other men. Why are you asking?”

Kíli let out a tiny sigh of relief.

“I just wasn’t sure if it’s really a thing that’s ...um...acceptable here.”

Again the three exchanged looks.

“Isn’t it where you are from?” Bofur asked cautiously.

Kíli shook his head. He somehow felt incredibly stupid for bringing this up at all.

“Well," he tried, "men marry women and then they have families and children and all that. That's what's expected, at least. Some men don’t find a wife and then they’re bachelors but that doesn’t really happen often...that's all there is." He sighed. 

“For years I thought that's the way things were, everywhere. I wouldn't have known that it happens differently, if my father hadn't told me. He knew because he travelled to Arda once."

There was concern in their faces now.

“There are many _many_ different things,” Mirra said, and Bofur nodded while Nori leaned back to let her explain.

“I’m a woman and I married a man," Mirra gestured to herself, "but when I was younger I fancied some other girls a little bit. None as much as my Bombur and we were young when we met.”

“Wait, you can like girls and boys at once?” Kíli blurted out heart thumping uncomfortably fast, and Mirra smiled. 

“Of course. There’s people who only fancy those who are like them, but there’s also a lot of people who love both men, women and anyone else equally and have no preference.”

Kíli nodded as she paused to wait for more questions.

Mirra didn't seem sure of what to tell him next, but she continued, "sometimes people have different preferences for who they love and who they want to lie with."

Kili could feel his cheeks heating up but Mirra was completely serious, albeit the concern was still on her face. Bofur was nodding along and Nori looked away, probably feeling awkward about having be around such dry explanation.

“Look at Bofur for example. He’d fancy anyone in his bed as long as they’re to his tastes, but he’s never been in love with anyone.”

Bofur nodded.

“I love near anyone, but I don’t fall in love, I don’t miss it and I wouldn’t want romance either way.”

Kíli raised his eyebrow but Mirra was already going on.

“There’s also people who don’t want to bed another, or who would never desire it but maybe enjoy it occasionally or under certain circumstances. Some people love in a group, or are in a pair but each share the bed of another. All that matters is that everyone is happy, I suppose, and that everyone involved agrees to it.”

She sighed.

“Has nobody ever taught you when you were younger?”

Kíli shook his head.

“Only my dad a little,” he muttered.

Mirra and Bofur glanced at each other.

“Does this make you feel better?” Mirra asked softly, and Kíli could only nod. He hadn’t expected to feel such a relief.

“See, Erebor’s people are reasonable,” she scoffed as Bofur pulled Kíli down with them. “I can't believe you grew up in a place with that mindset. How can people think like that?"

Bofur went to fetch more ale and returned with some more for Kíli as well.

“Now you’re with the good people,” Bofur said, and waggled his eyebrows. “Ask anything at any time, I can give practical advice as well if you need it.”

Mirra punched him in the shoulder and Kíli felt himself relax. They sipped their drinks and looked over to the celebrations on deck.

“I’m sorry for earlier, lad,” Bofur started, and Kíli wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.

“The swords, I mean. Shouldn’t have made you carry so much through such a bad space.”

Kíli waved him off and Nori muttered something about idiot crew members.

“Did you at least get to take something nice for yourself?” Bofur asked “Wouldn’t want to be responsible for you missing out.”

“I did actually!”

Kíli set his drink on the ground and rummaged in his pockets eagerly. He fished out the handkerchief and unfolded it to show the hairpin he’d taken, hoping that they’d like it as much as he did.

“Gorgeous,” Mirra said, but frowned as she looked at Kíli. “But I’m not sure if your hair is long enough to wear it yet.”

Kíli gently brushed an edge of his handkerchief over the gems.

“I wanted to give it to Tauriel. She doesn’t have anything kind of hairclip of her own yet. She was complaining about her hair getting blown in her face by all the wind and not having a sturdy hair tie."”

Bofur whistled.

“That’s a mighty impressive gift to just hand to your friend, isn’t it?” He asked as he peered at it, eyebrows raising.

Nori laughed and his eyes narrowed in a smile as he looked down at it.

“Because it really really isn’t," he added. "Look at it, it’s something between very close friends, maybe, but if somebody gave me a thing like _that_ my mind would skip to proposals right away.”

Kíli pulled his hand back and frowned at Nori.

“It’s actually cute, you two together" mused the first mate. “You’re so sweet around each other, it's adorable. Ah, nothing's as entertaining as other people in love without them noticing." 

Kili shushed him hurriedly and flapped his hands, eyes wide as he looked at Tauriel across the deck. Nori and Bofur exchanged looks.

"She...can't hear us over here, you know," said Nori slowly, looking like he was going to burst with his suppressed laughter, and Kili crossed his arms with a huff.

“I’m not in love…” Kíli muttered.

Nori smiled and nodded as if he was talking to a child.

“You’re sweet on each other. You’re also young and have all the time in the world so it’s still cute that you’re not realizing it.”

Mirra and Bofur threw each other a look, coughing unconvincingly and taking long drinks to hide their smiles.

Kíli glared at Nori for it.

“I’m not in love… Tauriel is my _friend_.”

Nori shrugged.

“One doesn’t exclude the other, Kíli.”

Kíli huffed and got up to his feet, a weird surge of anger rising in his chest.

"I'm. Not. In. Love!" he snapped.

Nori held his hands up in surrender, eyebrows raising as his smile fell.

“Well fine,” he said, a bit taken aback by Kíli’s reaction. “Sorry, I didn’t think that innocent little suggestion would offend you so much.”

Kíli shook his head.

“It’s not! And it’s not love because…”

He didn’t know what to tell them, and suddenly he felt like he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I’ll get more food,” he muttered and turned to leave the three behind, ignoring Mirra’s apologetic expression with a mild pang of guilt.

They were just teasing him after all; nobody ever overreacted at the mere suggestion of _love_ as if it was something lewd.

Kíli went to grab some fishcakes from the basket and paused for a moment.

He glanced over to Tauriel, who was talking to Sigrid again. He didn’t feel like he could give her the hairpiece right now after all, and what Nori had said upset him more than he liked to admit even to himself. Instead of returning to the group he chose to move under deck, where it was quiet and he could be alone in his hammock for a bit.

He knew it was just _teasing_.

Kíli liked Tauriel, he respected her, she was his friend, perhaps the best he'd ever had.

The way Nori had talked reminded him of the boys back in England. It was always the same; they'd discuss how it felt to fancy a girl, and Kili would feel completely alienated by what they said. Occasionally, he had been sweet on a few pretty and polite lasses in town, but as soon as the other boys began to speak of them with desire...Kili could not understand it. It felt wrong.

The brief idea of kissing Tauriel was fine (better than fine, if Kili were honest with himself), but then he remembered what everyone said about _bedding_ a partner, and the thought of _touching_ and doing anything else ever mentioned in that way-

He shivered at that.

No, he really wasn’t in love with Tauriel.

' _Damn Nori, why did he have to say that,_ ' growled Kili to himself. ' _As soon as he tricks me into respecting him, too._ '

Kíli sighed and stuffed the entire handful of fishcakes in his mouth, trying to chew without choking on them. His free hand found its way into his pocket to curl over the handkerchief and the hairpiece.

"Kíli?" 

Kíli spun around, mouth full of fish cakes as Tauriel called quietly. She bit her lip as she tried not to grin at the sight.

"Are you alright? You just disappeared and all the crew is still out drinking." He nodded hurriedly, and she raised an eyebrow, looking him over.

"Did Nori upset you? You were talking to him."

Kíli rolled his eyes and shook his head, and as his mouth was still too full to speak he gestured vaguely in what he hoped was a comforting display of ' _I'm fine, it's nothing to worry about, just a bit tired, go have fun and look at the stars some more, I'll be out as soon as I manage to swallow these fish cakes._ '

Tauriel scrutinised his face before she sighed, giving him a small smile and squeezing his shoulder. 

"I was promised a story about your amazing feat of daring piracy," she said casually as she turned to return to the deck. "Nori insists you were a vital part of the mission against our pompous rival captain. I hope I get to hear all the details later tonight."

Kili watched her go and the discomfort that had taken hold of him earlier was replaced with a warmth. He could trust her, and she would listen to him if he needed to talk.

He touched the hair clasp in his pocket again, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the updates might be coming a little slow while I'm working on the last assignments of this semester ;w;


	33. "Platonic"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains a brief masturbation scene right at the start of the chapter

Through the locked door, and the small distance between his office and the end of the hallway to the deck, Dwalin could still hear the celebrations of his crew. He could not blame them for it, even if he wished for quiet or at least a steadier kind of noise for the moment. Like a storm. Or wind howling through the cracks of a house’s walls. Never let it be said that Dwalin was the sort of captain to order his crew about based on his personal needs, rather than for work. He’d served under such people, and while he could understand it, he would try his best to keep his moods under control.

It was for the best that everyone was happy now. It was fine that they could joke and jest and have their fun, even if their topics of choice were ridiculous at best.

Dwalin’s eyes focused on the letters and notes he’d gathered in Ered Luin, from Thorin,and from their other distant relations or friends on the borders of Erebor and beyond. They all were saying the same thing. More Wargs had been heard in the distance, more traces of Orcs had been found around the mountains and deeper into the previously safe parts of Erebor’s outer reaches. No real attacks on settlements yet, but just their presence was enough to make anyone nervous, and caravans reluctant to risk travel.

It wasn’t too bad, it wasn’t actual war. It wasn’t like nearly twenty years ago.

_It wasn’t_.

Dwalin crossed his hands in front of his mouth, gently knocking his thumbs against his lips as he tried to read every single word to distract himself from the distant sounds of his crew. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this; maybe Nori was right, and he was working himself up over nothing. There was nothing he could do anyway.

And now he was thinking about Nori and his thoughts inevitably switched back to what he’d overheard earlier. He should have know that any conversation involving Mirra, Bofur, and booze would lead to filth, and things that wouldn’t leave his mind in their ridiculousness. And then Nori had joined in as well…

Dwalin let out a pained sigh and closed his eyes, all attempts at distraction gone for good. 

It had been _years_ since he had taken up with a lover for a quick tumble, or at all for that matter. He had lain with other sailors back when he was under the command of other captains, and an occasional fellow in port cities. But now he was a captain and couldn’t let go of propriety like that; he had his own ship, and his duty to Thorin and his family, and somehow those were enough. But he did yearn, sometimes.

Dwalin groaned out loud as one of his hands dropped down to where his cock was straining against his pants. He ground the heel of his hand against his erection, panting softly at the friction.

It was _so nice_ to hold somebody down, safe and warm and secure, smiling in their pleasure as they forgot the notion of anything but touch and the sound of soft gasps. So nice to have somebody to love, or at least somebody else he cared for instead of quickly taking his pleasure in solitude. Just the way Nori had described, just the way he’d accentuated with a breathy voice and his hands on his own body. 

Nori smiled so sweetly when he was genuinely relaxed and happy, comfortable and calm when Dwalin brought him pretty necklaces and hairpieces and dresses for Nori’s collection, on those evenings when they both could just rest and enjoy some wine and time off their duties. He’d probably look the same moaning and close to his release, if Dwalin’s skills in that matter hadn’t rusted.

_'No’_ , thought Dwalin to himself, ‘don’t even go there-'

But now his mind couldn’t shake the unbidden images of loose red hair over the pillows, its owner squirming in delight as Dwalin held on tight, lips and tongue teasing across flushed freckled skin, down and down and down until-

“Maker _damn it all_ ,” he snarled as he quickly unlaced his pants before he could make a mess. Taking his cock in hand, he pumped quickly, roughly, seeking to get off as quick as he could in his urgency. It didn’t take long before he spilled over his hand, briefly straining in his chair before he slumped with a sigh and set his head on the table with a loud _thunk_.

The warm pleasurable buzz under his skin was gone almost immediately and Dwalin glowered at his desk in annoyance, already scolding himself for his indulgence. That’s what he got for working too much and worrying over useless matters, rather than taking care of his needs. Of course he’d end up like that after listening to Nori…

A wave of shame washed over Dwalin and he closed his eyes. It simply wasn’t right to get off to thoughts of his friend. Nori had not intended his words to be arousing, he had spoken jokingly as he normally would to the rest of the crew. He was just…

He was just beautiful when he was relaxing, even if he wasn’t completely at ease like he alone with his Captain. Dwalin hadn’t gotten off in too long, and Nori was a beautiful man. Perhaps Dwalin’s type, though given how long he had known Nori he couldn’t tell anymore. 

But Nori was a crewmember, and it was entirely indecent to take pleasure in anyone aboard his own ship, let alone in poor taste to take pleasure in him as a friend.

He sighed and reached for a handkerchief to clean himself up as well as he could. His eyes fell on the locket Nori had bought him, with the tiny fox figurine sitting inside. It was watching him through narrowed eyes, as if Dwalin’s noisiness had woken it up from a nap and it was now cranky.

Dwalin half wanted to reach over and nudge the toy back into the locket, but decided against it. At least it would serve as a reminder not to use Nori’s trust like that again and twist his words into his own pleasure. 

“What’re you looking at?” The Captain grumbled instead, and he could swear that the little offended thing was now laughing at him.

*

Nori sat in one of his favourite spots of the Wind Dancer’s nets; legs looped through the ropes and his back leaned comfortably against the rest of it. It was as comfortable as a hammock, with the bonus of not actually needing to sleep in it.

His braid was trapped against his body and the ropes, or else it would wave in the wind like a banner. Somehow people spotted him quicker up here, when he let his hair fly loose, which Nori didn’t really do anyway. The way he looked like that just wasn’t worth combing out the tangles.

Nori’s gaze wandered over the deck, fingers drumming on his spyglass. He didn’t really need it up here. Sure, occasionally it was good to personally see the ground or the skies the Wind Dancer moved through, considering that he was the first mate and the first mate was supposed to know everything. Right now the skies were overhung with pale clouds, glaringly bright above, and the forest areas and fields below were nearly obscured by whiffs of fog. Even with the spyglass he wouldn’t see more than whoever was on watch in the crow’s nest.

So many times Dwalin had told him not to climb up without reason, and so many times Nori had just ignored him. Perhaps Dwalin just knew how much Nori loved this, or he would have been firmer in his demands that Nori kept away from the dangerous abyss. He guessed so many things about Nori these days…

The truth that Nori didn’t even like admitting to himself was that he just _liked_ being so high up with nothing under his feet, only ropes and no ground, even if the ground was wooden planks. Strangely enough it made him feel alive and free and safe, as if the altitude and the wind cleared anything that troubled him. Easier than booze or doing something dangerous for a cheap thrill. Dwalin seemed to understand that, at least, and everyone had their quirks…

It was also his resting place, more so than his little room or the closet with the dresses hidden away from the crew. Hiding in his room was boring and sad, even if he just needed a moment for himself; besides, Nori never felt like he could just sneak into the Captain's quarters to get his dresses and pet the fine materials. If somebody came looking for him they might grow suspicious, and perhaps even find the things.

No, up here Nori was as much on his own as one could be on the Wind Dancer, he could observe his shipmates while he relaxed, and could rejoin them as soon as he needed or in case of emergencies.

Not to mention that he saw everything without being seen himself, and it put a healthy fear of the first mate into everyone’s heart. At least that was what Nori loved to tell himself.

Right now there wasn’t much happening on deck, with the easiest wind and barely any need to readjust anything on board. With the cool air and the early morning fog it was also understandable that everyone would be a little tired or trying to find something to do below deck. 

The only thing really going on at the moment was the scrubbing of the deck, by orders of Dwalin. Lifur and Kíli seemed to be burdened with the duty more and more, Bifur’s son because he generally kept getting into some kind of trouble that warranted the punishment, and Kíli for much the same reasons as he was slowly warming up to life aboard the Wind Dancer and letting Lifur talk him into various pranks or misconduct.

If Nori remembered right, this one was for the time Lifur had climbed up the nets, much like Nori did, to hang upside down over the deck by his legs, to show off his skills for Kíli, who had then decided to try it as well. Nothing had happened, and the two hadn’t picked any of the nets close to the rail and the abyss below, but Dwalin would have none of it.

“Nori does this all the time!” Lifur had whined while Kíli at least had the decency to look sorry.

“He doesn’t dangle upside down while there’s things to do,” was the only thing Dwalin had to say on the matter, and that was it.

Nori suppressed a snicker at the thought. Of course he got to do things Lifur would be scolded for. He was the first mate after all, and Dwalin’s friend at that. Nobody had to know how often _he_ got scolded when nobody else was around, which was still quite frequently.

Right now it seemed as if Lifur had found a way that would earn him another round of unpleasant ship maintenance duties, if anyone important caught him at it or if something got damaged. Instead of focusing on keeping the deck clean and just rough enough to offer good foothold, he’d raised his mop like a sword, arm over his head in an exaggerated pose. And of course, when Lifur was doing it, it wasn’t any wonder that Kíli had raised his mop as well, standing in a more classical training position but with his chest puffed out and chin raised proudly.

Nori could hear the wooden clatter of the mops crashing together even where he was sitting, but the wind carried only few of the words the boys exchanged up to him. They were playing at being knights it seemed, or at least Kíli was, proudly proclaiming that no fiend could overcome him, while Lifur was laughing menacingly.

That in itself wasn’t that unusual, but they weren’t alone in their mock fight. Apart from Nori, there was another watching without interfering, closer to the boys than the first mate was. Tauriel leaned against the rail a little away from them, either too distracted by the display or with nothing else to do, but she stood there, laughing.

Nori couldn’t quite tell who she was cheering on, as she was clapping and saying something no matter which boy managed to hit the other with a smack of the stick. But if Nori saw right, she seemed more excited each time Kíli did something good, showed off his moves or said something particularly funny. In turn Kíli was more encouraged by the audience, and skipped around with triumphant crowing and flourishes.

It made Nori smirk to witness it. Those two were the textbook example of two youngsters in love, for the first time in their lives perhaps. It wasn’t just companionship from travelling together for weeks; Nori knew what that was like and he didn’t see it in Kíli and Tauriel. They still sought each other out even after making so many friends among the crew, and they acted like old friends when they did. It wasn’t just friendship surely, with how close they were, or how they kept watching each other, how happy they were when the other was near, how they kept thinking of each other so obviously when they were not together.

Kíli had acted offended at the suggestion, but why he had, Nori couldn’t tell. Even Ori had outgrown embarrassment at the idea of a crush when she was still a tween, and now even her brother’s actual teasing wouldn’t faze her. Perhaps Kíli just was too different from her, for all that he was rowdy and quick to jest and Nori’s little sister was quiet and private.

With his chin resting against his hand Nori watched the spectacle unfold below him. Tauriel was glowing with joy, and the boys had started to expand their area of mischief. Lifur skipped over coiled-up ropes and up on barrels and back down again, Kíli following suit. It would only be a matter of seconds when something would go amiss, and Nori was not about to miss it.

The moment came when Lifur forgot where he was going and returned to the spot they’d been cleaning. His foot landed right on top of the bristle-brush he’d left lying on the ground, and though he made one last futile flail it was all for naught; Kíli didn’t see why his friend had lost his balance and crashed into him, sending them, their mops, and their buckets flying.

Nori rolled his eyes and bit back his smile as he untangled his limbs from the ropes and let himself drop down along them, to reach the ground.

Lifur was groaning in pain from where he’d landed on his backside, and Kíli had been buried by the mops, one of them lying right over his head and hanging into his face.

Tauriel was laughing at them, tears in her eyes and trying not bow over from it, trying to keep quiet to not offend the boys. Not that there was much to hurt their pride with now.

And she was, Nori could now confirm, _actually_ glowing, just a glimmer that at a distance might be mistaken for the sunlight, had there been any sun. 

How intriguing.

Nori strolled over to them easily, one hand on his belt near where he kept one of his visible knives. He smiled a little as he reached the boys.

“It’s all your fault,” Lifur muttered as he pushed at Kíli with his knee to get him to move faster and let him get up.

“I’m not the one who doesn’t look where he’s going!”

The muttering stopped abruptly as they saw Nori standing in front of them, relaxed and with no trace of anger on his face. Funny how that made anyone freeze up and put on a guilty expression so much faster. The crewmembers didn’t even need to be told they did wrong if Nori ambled up like that.

Nori cocked his head to the side as the boys quickly and quietly got up and put the mops and buckets down, waiting for judgement.

“You know you were supposed to clean the deck, not make a bigger mess?” Nori asked, and both nodded sheepishly.

“Good. Then you’ll clean this entire area again and finish your work after Óin makes sure you didn’t knock out your brains with that ruckus earlier. And you’re to do the mid-day sweep as well, lucky you.”

He waved them off towards the lower decks, and both hurried away. Just as they reached the steps leading down below deck Dwalin strode out, and looked at the boys with a raised eyebrow. Both of them twitched and nodded politely to him before scampering past his huge form, possibly only now realizing how much trouble they might have been in if the Captain had walked out sooner, or if Nori had been less generous.

Dwalin threw them one last half hearted glare before he ascended to the helm’s deck instead.

Tauriel wasn’t the only one giggling then, and Nori didn’t have to look around to see that the sailors at the crow’s nest or at the far end of the deck had witnessed the spectacle as well.

He sauntered over to Tauriel, who was trying to press her lips together to stop laughing. She still was glowing with her mirth, shimmering with a faint white light that could have been a trick of the light, but Nori knew better. 

“Do you always glow like this, or only when Kíli is doing something so silly that it’s nearly cute?”

It was near comical how quickly Tauriel’s smile dropped. She tensed and straightened, expression closed off and wary. She looked at Nori, a little uncertain and perhaps even a little flustered.

“Glow? When Kíli-?”

The faint glow in her hair had disappeared just as Tauriel had startled at the question. Now it still had her usual smooth and silky appearance, but the only thing shiny in it was the hairpiece Kíli had given to her a week ago. There was no indication that she knew what Nori meant, only a slight worry about misunderstanding…

Perhaps she didn’t know she’d been glowing at all.

“It’s cute,” Nori said, and smiled.

Tauriel’s ears reddened a little and her lips twitched in an embarrassed grin. 

She was saved from trying to explain it away and babbling by Sigrid’s voice calling for her, asking for assistance. Tauriel excused herself and walked off quickly, still blushing to the tips of her ears.

It truly was adorable how sweet those two were on each other.

Nori watched Tauriel for any signs of the glow as she walked away, but her hair remained as it was. He wasn’t sure what it meant, whether it was just a random occurrence that had nothing to do with Tauriel, or whether it was something that only happened if the situation was right. Nori hummed as he considered his theories, but he could not prove any of them yet. He could not mention anything to Tauriel, in case he was wrong. Either she’d fear what he’d do, or she would think him an idiot, and that just wouldn’t do.

Instead of worrying too much about that now, Nori kicked himself off the rail and sauntered over to the helm’s deck instead. Glóin had just left it after navigation duty, and only Dwalin stood at the edge of it, helm locked into one direction to be left alone for now, and watched the sky behind the Wind Dancer.

He must have heard Nori, but he didn’t react or turn around until Nori turned on his heel so that his braid smacked against Dwalin’s arm as he stepped next to him.

Dwalin glared at Nori then, but didn’t speak.

“Our little guest truly is not of this world,” Nori stated, and Dwalin nodded.

“Did she do anything?”

“Not exactly, I’m not sure if she did anything on purpose, of if anything happened at all.”

Nori looked over the clouds that hung low enough to be beneath the Wind Dancer. Then he leaned his head to the side, angling it so that a gust of wind would let it snap against Dwalin’s arm once more.

“Perhaps it’s Kíli being silly that set it off? Maybe we should ask him to neglect his tasks and fool around with Lifur more.”

He turned around to lean against the rail instead of looking out into the sky, consciously making sure to have his braid swing against Dwalin’s arm. It wouldn’t hurt or sting as much as a friendly fist to the shoulder, but it surely would annoy the Captain enough to be amusing.

“Though, in that case nothing would ever get done on the Wind Dancer with the mess we get to clean up.”

He moved his head again, fast enough for the braid to move along quickly.

“Don’t you think?”

Instead of letting himself be smacked once more, Dwalin’s hand darted out and curled around Nori’s braid, pulling him so that he had to stumble closer and stand straight up in front of his Captain.

Dwalin glared down at Nori, eyes bright and pale in the gaudy light of the day, and lips pressed in a straight line. His grip was very firm and would not break, as Nori knew from experience, and his fist was nearly close enough to Nori’s face for his knuckles to brush over his cheek. It didn’t hurt though, and Dwalin only ever did it when Nori was likely to amble away instead of listening to whatever important thing Dwalin had to say. 

“The boys got punished for hanging about on the nets where they shouldn’t be, and they still haven’t even completed their chore. Yet here you are doing just that in any free minute.”

Nori’s lips twitched into a grin but Dwalin remained serious.

“I know you are secure if you just sit there, but what if the wind picks up and you don’t notice just how much? Don’t think I miss the way you just let yourself drop several feet at a time to cut down climbing time either!”

Nori tried to look away towards the deck, but Dwalin’s eyes made it harder to move than his hand holding him in place. Sometimes, just sometimes the Captain managed to make Nori feel guilty for taking what others thought to be unnecessary risks.

“At least try not to do anything that might blow you off the Wind Dancer,” Dwalin said and tugged once on Nori’s braid for emphasis, with both his touch and his voice growing gentler.

Nori hummed in agreement and nodded, and finally Dwalin let go. He smoothed Nori’s braid against his chest and ran his fingers over it where it had gotten the tiniest bit messed up from the touch, as if in apology.

“I’ll take more care,” Nori said, meaning it even if he knew what he and Dwalin considered to be “taking care” were very different, and would clash again eventually.

For now Dwalin seemed pleased and he smiled at Nori before stepping away and to the helm to check all the gauges and settings.

“I appreciate it,” he told him without looking back.

Nori ran his hand over his braid, smoothing it down though it wasn’t messed up at all.

There was nothing for him to do on the helm’s deck, or anywhere really, so he wandered back down.

Bofur had made his way to work by now, gathering up some ropes to carry down to the storage. He looked up as Nori approached, waggling his eyebrows slightly.

“In trouble with the Captain?” he asked, looking towards where Dwalin stood and then at Nori’s fingers curled around his braid.

Nori shrugged and let his hand fall to his side.

“The usual worry about me misstepping and flying over the rail.”

Bofur made a noncommittal noise and his lips twitched in the briefest smile, but didn’t say anything more on the subject. He didn’t seem to have anything to talk about for now, probably daydreaming about his next meal, so Nori stood around for a moment, before deciding that he too could use a snack. He’d be able to snag an apple since Bombur had some barrels from their last town stop.

Fidgeting with the ties on the end of his braid Nori walked over to the stairs leading down towards the galley, half plotting how to get his hands on food without Bombur even realizing. 

*

The old wizard was strange and irregular in his ways, and even after years of living with him Dís could not predict his mood shifts, which could switch from excited to agitated to terribly absentminded in an instant. Yet even so it was evident that something had been bothering Radagast these past weeks.

He would ramble on fretfully and disappear for hours more and more often where usually he stayed put and near his little house. It seemed to Dís that even the animals coming and going all over the place were staying longer and leaving less. Small critters would hide in Radagast’s robes and Dís was guaranteed to see more deer and birds near the house when she worked on her chores outside or just sat at one of the small streams.

Much as it made Dís wonder about why these changes occurred, she didn’t ask the wizard. It never did any good to question his behaviour. Sometimes he would give gibberish explanations about spells and roots, sometimes he would even start speaking about spirits or gods, and then Dís truly could not follow his talk. The man probably didn’t realize that he was speaking to somebody who lacked the knowledge on his topics. On one occasion he had forgotten that he was speaking to Dís as he was giving her an explanation, and went around doing his little tasks and spells, still speaking but not making sure that Dís was following or listening.

She didn’t expect Radagast to broach the topic himself anyway.

It was late afternoon and after a long day of clouded skies the sun finally filtered through the trees. There was nothing Dís had to do for the day, so she just walked to the closest stream to Radagast’s house, one hidden by tall grass and often had at least one of the wizard’s giant rabbits relaxing next to it as well.

Today Dís could spot at least five of the animals stretched out lazily near the water, dozing without any reaction to her presence at all, like the normal sized rabbits did around her. With how often Radagast took them on short trips now it was just to be expected.

She sat down comfortably, not paying attention to the rabbits just as they ignored the woman next to them, letting her bare feet dangle in the water. Sometimes, when Dís closed her eyes and the wind did not rustle the leaves too much and the birds did not sing, or at least had many crows among them, she could nearly imagine being home in one of the palace’s gardens, with the artificial ponds and the wells.

Dís never thought about it for too long, preferring not to risk ruining another day or even week with the bitterness of not being able to return to her family. She had to be patient, she had to wait for an opportunity. She was the daughter of Kings and the Line of Durin, she would not be trapped forever. Smaug had cursed her, but she had not won the war.

The worm slept and waited and stored its powers for centuries, if the need arose. And if that beast could wait, then so could Dís, patient until she could finally do something. The thought of beating the worm’s curse and the need to be patient lent Dís some strength and the will to be cold and strong as a mountain, locking any source of despair away and only focusing on the forest around her. Instead of mourning for what she had lost, Dís preferred to think of how she had done enough to aid her family before her being cursed, and that her brother and her sons were well, that her Philip had protected her youngest…

They were well, and that was all that mattered, even if she could not see them.

She had been attempting to change that, though. During her study, she had come across a spell in one of Radagast's old tomes. It was not the most peculiar kind of magic, though she had never used it back in Erebor. The spell had to be translated, but she was confident that she had just about succeeded. And if she succeeded, she would be able to use reflective surfaces to see other places, and people. 

Dis rearranged herself so that she was kneeling on the riverbank and, after a quick glance over her shoulder, slowed her breathing. Her attempts had not been perfect thus far, as she had trouble figuring out the fine details of the old book’s faded ink.

Dis leaned towards the water and, spreading her fingers, touched the surface so gently that the water did not break around her fingertips. It felt like she was touching the softest of silky tissue, and Dis closed her eyes, murmuring the spell to herself. She began to move her hands, careful not to break the water's surface, skimming her fingertips lightly as she smoothed out the ripples, like fabric. The water stilled where her hands touched it, and when she carefully withdrew her hands, the river rippled around what appeared to be a perfectly still patch of water, dark, and smooth as obsidian. 

Water was not an element Dís could control easily; it was not in her nature and the element must know so as well, as water based spells persistently evaded her. Dís had a fine grasp on fire, and the wind under a Raven’s wings obeyed her as if she were breathing out and in, and of her family she’d felt the easiest connection to Erebor’s birds as a child. Besides, this was a spell of stealth and spying, another thing that wasn’t in line with her personality. She wouldn’t be a good spellcaster if she couldn’t suppress those bumps in the magic for long enough to at least try though. 

The darkness of the water she’d touched was starting to blur, started to lighten into shades of blue and green, colours that were similar to what a natural reflection would look like in this spot, but only a little bit off. 

A bead of sweat ran down her forehead, but Dís did not let that break her concentration. Already she could feel her grasp on the spell run out as if she was trying to hold water in her cupped hands. She had to command for the mirror to show her something, anything, just to see whether her attempts had been in vain or not. 

She spoke the command and the colour of her mirror changed to grey. Slowly the shapes started to move and rearrange themselves. Dís could see the shape of the Lonely Mountain, the city of Erebor, the capital and the palace of her country. Just as Dís thought she had finally made some considerable progress the water melted into a flurry of ripples, showing only a distortion of her distraught face.

She had little time to feel disappointed or happy to at least have gotten that far, when the rustling of tall grass and a ragged coat alerted her of the wizard’s presence. Radagast didn’t go to her, or call her to help him with something, but instead he stepped to the rabbit closest to her. Dís watched as Radagast pet its head absentmindedly, staring at the water. He hadn’t noticed her spells, and Dís felt a little relieved at it, why, she didn’t know. 

“Something is wrong in the forest,” he whispered, and it was surprising to have him speak up randomly and in such a serious tone.

“Is this why you leave so often now?”

Radagast glanced at her, only briefly meeting her eyes before looking back at the rabbit and mumbling something.

“The animals are getting spooked, they say something is creeping in the forest,” Radagast said, his voice grave and more serious than Dís had ever heard it be before. “Right on the very edges, near the mountains. More are coming and deeper into the woods, though they are afraid. They are only moving, travelling fast to get through the valleys and the mountain range quicker.”

His eyes moved towards the north, where the outskirts of the mountains and those of the forest lay like crossed fingers, reaching into each other in parts. Dís followed his gaze, and though it was miles upon miles away it felt as if something cold and dangerous was very close by.

She was often frustrated that her only companion through the past years had been a quirky little man who spoke in ways that hardly made sense to anyone but his animals, but Dís decidedly did not like it when he was like this either.

“Do you know what caused it?” she asked cautiously, not sure if she wanted to know.

She wouldn’t be a princess of Erebor is she took no care in potential dangers though, even if she was currently powerless to do anything about it.

“I think there are Orcs hurrying through the mountains so quick that they dare cross through the forests.”

Dís felt a cold shiver run down her spine at the thought. The last time the Orcs had done anything unusual had ended in war, the deaths of too many in her family, and finally her imprisonment in the forest.

“Are they planning something?”

She wished more than anything for her sword in hand, to be back in Erebor at Thorin’s side. 

Radagast thought quietly for a moment, before he shook his head.

“They are either terrified of something happening in their previous residence, or they are hurrying to be somewhere important to them.”

He stared out towards the north for a moment longer, before he shook and waved his arms about.

“But there’s no sense in worrying over something we don’t know. Say, do you want any carrots in your stew? I’m sure I had some left if this lot didn’t eat them…”

Radagast was back to muttering in a second, and without awaiting Dís’ reply he wandered off again, reciting the recipe for his rabbit’s favourite treat.

Dís was left alone with a chill in her heart and her eyes scanning the mountains in the far distance. She glanced back at the water. If ever there was a time to learn such a spell, it was now. Dís took a deep breath, and reached out.

*

Thorin stood at one of the high balconies of the palace. This particular balcony was rarely ever visited unless Thorin specifically requested somebody’s presence. He needed the quiet right now, after an unusually tiring day at court and hours of trying to make sense of the messages that arrived from the borders. He really deserved a moment of rest, he felt, as he sipped at the watered down wine with spices and honey mixed in and watched the sky above.

For days the weather had not allowed for a glimpse at the stars, but today he could finally see the sickle of the moon as well as a near cloudless night. It had been many weeks since he’d seen the Arkenstone fall, and weeks of Fíli travelling around in search for it.

At first Thorin had foolishly hoped that their heirloom would return to its rightful place in a matter of days or a fortnight at most, but now he saw that such a hope had been unreasonable. The travel time alone would take a while, considering that the Arkenstone wouldn’t fall where it was convenient for anyone. It might be drawn to the heirs of Durin, but it was just a stone obeying gravity in this case.

Fíli had sent back a few letters by raven, reporting that his runes were leading him back and forth as if the Arkenstone was moving, but Thorin did not worry. It could not be destroyed easily, and from what was told about taking its power away, it would now simply look like a common crystal, or glass, or just a pale stone. Even if Orcs got their hands on it, there would be nothing to fear. It was useless without the touch of a rightful heir of Durin.

What did worry Thorin was Fíli’s report of the burned down inn. It was the only evidence of Orcs actually doing anything in the land, besides wandering in unusually far. There were reports of them making people feel unsafe, of sightings and tracks and howls of Wargs in the distance. But when Thorin sent out requests for reports, all he had gotten back was a reassurance that guards and patrols near settlements had been doubled, and that nothing had happened at all.

It could be that the Orcs were moving because their clans had gotten aggressive among each other, or that something had made their previous caves and homes unsafe or uninhabitable. In that case they’d eventually calm down again, more interested in setting up a new lair than trying to attack when they themselves could not retreat.

Thorin prayed to Mahal the Maker every day that this was the truth. The last time Erebor had been at war the population had suffered for years, and Thorin himself had lost half of his family in the battles or in ambushes. He would not wish to repeat it, or wish anything like it to happen to his people again. 

There was little he could do besides making sure that his own armies, and those of his allies, would be ready and willing to follow his call as soon as things started to get bad. That, and trust that his heir would find the Arkenstone that would lend them the power and protection that could spare the lives of their soldiers. 

Thorin threw a look over his shoulder to his desk, where only private correspondence was scattered about. It wasn’t his official work room, where his counsellors might visit him with news and important business, and anyone who needed the King’s audience could come to, with the tapestries and big gilded table. These were his private chambers, and Thorin knew he could focus on his own business. 

Fíli had only written him once after delivering the only evidence for Orcs actually doing anything within Erebor’s lands, and he had mentioned that he would visit Belegost to look for news of the Arkenstone. It had made Thorin smirk, as he knew that Fíli’s little sweetheart lived and worked in Belegost, for Balin’s little company even. Of course Fíli would use any excuse to visit young Miss Ori. Thorin did not mind it; he trusted Fíli to be both courteous to the young lady until they finally decided to court, and neither neglect his search nor his duties. 

Of course there was only so little he could do. Belegost _was_ a good place to gather information. It was a place where all sorts of people mingled, and there had been rumors and disbelief about a falling star recently. It hadn’t been seen by many, but the idea of finding such a mystical creature was alluring to anyone who believed that it had happened. 

Thorin knew that it could not be a star, as he had seen the fire of the Arkenstone’s remaining magic clearly. However, following the rumours of such a “star” would help Fíli track it down, and Thorin didn’t mind people having that misconception. They would not know what treasure they found, if they truly stumbled over the “star”. 

It was good to have Fíli in Belegost right now. If Thorin wasn’t mistaken, Dwalin was due to be docking home soon, and he would leave after a few days. It would benefit Fíli greatly to search with a better travel opportunity. 

Thorin sighed and finished his wine quickly before he returned to the desk and lit a candle. It was time to let his nephew and cousin know that they would soon be crossing paths.


	34. The Lengths One Goes For Love

The landscape of green forests below the Wind Dancer was interrupted by the occasional golden treetop as autumn leisurely began to settle over Erebor. Late summer storms meant that fresh lightning was an easy catch. Kíli and Tauriel found themselves in the midst of the crashes of thunder and flashes of light, rain-soaked along with the rest of the crew partaking in the harvests, going to their hammocks dishevelled but satisfied at a job well done more and more often. Though they still weren’t asked to do any of the crucial parts of lightning harvesting they also weren’t asked to seek shelter and merely watch. Everyone’s hands were needed when so much was going on, and everyone did their best where they could. They began to compare callouses before too long, and soon they no longer paid mind to the burn of the ropes of the Wind Dancer. 

Tauriel wore her hair clasp every day, and tucked it safely under her rain hat before the ship headed for a storm. Something warmed Kili inside every time it caught the light at the turn of her head. 

There hadn’t been any storms in the past week though, and instead of cruising through the sky with no particular goal other than hunting down bad weather the Wind Dancer was on a set course.

Kíli’s hands moved quickly as he secured the sail tightly, so it would not flutter in the wind where it wasn’t supposed to. His mind was wandering, or else he would have realised how much these actions had moved into routine, and how he didn’t have to focus to be sure he was doing everything right. Only the height still worried him, but he managed to ignore the empty air and hundreds of feet between him and the ground. 

Most of the time.

Tauriel was decidedly better at these things, neither fearing heights nor tensing up nervously when she was sent up into the rigging. No matter how much Kíli tried, he just couldn’t manage to be as relaxed as she and most of the other sailors were. Then again, she _was_ a star, and had spent her entire existence looking down at the ground from even further up in the sky. 

Right now she stood at the helm’s deck by Dwalin’s side, looking on as his hands moved over the various levers next to the helm. He had made clear very early into their stay on the Wind Dancer that neither she nor Kíli would ever get to manoeuvre the ship, much to Kíli’s disappointment, and that very few were permitted to do so at all. He did, however, let them watch when they wished or when he was manoeuvring in some unusual way. Right now he was gently guiding the ship down and towards the strange port below.

At a distance Kíli had assumed that the Wind Dancer was heading to a tall tree standing in the middle of a copse of young trees, but by now it was clear that it was a regular light forest, reaching high up into the sky; the tree in the middle was simply of enormous proportions, taller and wider than any tree had any right to be, as far as Kíli was concerned.

The branches reached into every direction, with one or two ships already docking between the leaves. At a distance it looked to Kíli as if somebody had taken toy boats, and instead of playing with them in the river (as one was supposed to) they’d tied them up to a tree in their garden. It was hard to see what was in the middle of the tree, as it was still summer and thick green leaves covered each branch, but the crew had claimed it was big enough to host a market inside. This was, as it turned out, the reason they were about to dock there.

At first Kíli had doubted it. Though he’d seen so many strange things already, he simply could not believe that even the largest tree would host a _market_. But with every minute, the Wind Dancer had come closer and the tree had seemed bigger and bigger until Kíli had to admit that it must be possible to hide something inside. 

“Is there anything interesting in the area?” Kíli asked Glóin once he was done with the sails. “I thought we’ve moved away from populated areas. Is there a village in there as well?”

“Not at all, not like with the little illegal market you saw before,” Glóin waved him off. “Nobody actually lives at that market, unless it’s to nap if the sale goes well. No, there’s just vendors in this tree. Travellers sleep in whatever they've come in, be it ship or caravan or simply the clothes on their backs."

At Kíli’s raised eyebrow Glóin simply winked and grinned.

“The special thing is, they have the rarest things, and magic and spells, along with things that are only found in certain villages the way they are.”

“So we need to buy stuff there?”

“Ach no, we’re _selling_.”

Kíli had wondered about that until he saw how some crewmembers started to carry up some boxes and baskets he’d seen in the storage rooms. He’d assumed that it was simply food or materials that could be kept away, but it seemed like it was loot and cargo the Wind Dancer had gathered before. 

From what he had gathered about the ship’s business schemes, the Wind Dancer wasn’t off hunting lightning at all times. Of course, this was what she was built for, and what she and her crew were specialized in, but big nice storms weren’t a constant, so it would put them out of commission for entire seasons. Instead the ship also carried cargo and messages across the land quickly and safely, supplies, wares and caskets of goods as well as loot from the occasional act of piracy to be sold in legal and not _quite_ as legal manners. The tree market was a good place to do so with the random clutter that couldn’t be given away anywhere else well.

“It’s a fantastical place,” Lifur has said in the brief moment they got to speak about it too. (Dwalin had decided that Lifur and Kíli working too close to each other just left too much room for mischief and chaos, so they didn’t get assigned to close by parts of the Wind Dancer as often anymore).

The way the boy’s eyes had started to shine as he mentioned the beautiful and rare objects one could find there had made Kíli want to see it even more. If even somebody who lived in such a strange and magical place, as Arda would find wonder in it, it simply had to be extraordinary.

The thought of exploring it carefully had crossed Kíli’s mind, and the hope of finding something worthy of Ned blossomed once more, stronger than it had been in the past weeks. Finding something that was both as good as his original notion of a star, and would appeal to Ned had been a constant worry on his mind, and a task that seemed increasingly impossible. 

A bump from the side of the deck distracted Kíli before he could work himself into the unfairness of it all and make himself grumpy. Looking around for the source, he saw Bofur and Glóin carry a long plank, or as it seemed, simply holding it gently to guide Tauriel, who was carrying the weight herself. She had left Dwalin’s side to help, and by now the ship was slowly lowering itself between the edges of the branches.

The landing process was over before he knew it; the gentle rustling of leaves increased against the keel and then stopped. Tauriel and Glóin secured the gangplank to the ship and then lowered it to the docking space. Kili watched as Bofur and Gloin helped Tauriel into a safety belt; he had seen this process carried out multiple times when the crew had docked, but it was Tauriel’s first time in that role. She held her red braid out of the way as the two men made sure the harness wasn’t too tight, tugging at the long rope attached to its metal rings to make sure it was secure. It was unlikely that the belt would be needed, but no chances could be taken aboard a sky vessel.

Encouraged by a pat on the back by Bofur, Tauriel took a deep breath and proceeded towards the plank. Looking back to make sure Gloin and Bofur were holding her safety line, she stepped nimbly over the side and down the gangplank. Without pausing to look down at the empty air below, she was across and safely on the other side in a matter of seconds, though Kili still held his breath for a moment after. Tauriel promptly secured the gangplank to the dock, and signalled the crew with a barely-concealed grin of pride. A cheer went up from the main ship and Tauriel darted back up to remove her harness and help carry the cargo.

"Good to finally be rid of these," huffed Nori as he dropped his end of a heavy rolled carpet, which Kíli recognised it as part of the loot that he had helped obtain. 

"Do we have a stall here?" he inquired as they made their way back up the plank to fetch more wares.

He couldn't quite imagine any of the Wind Dancer's crew as shopkeepers. He tried to picture the Captain at a stall, offering his wares in grunts and grumbles, scowling until customers ran off. It would be better if Nori was the salesman and Dwalin the shop's guard, he thought. Nori's tongue was so clever he could probably trick a fish into purchasing water.

"Nope, thank the Maker.”

"And everything is sold, though we're only here for the day?"

"Oh yes, you'd be surprised at how many of these stalls pop up and disappear within a matter of hours or days. Buy what you want as soon as you see it, or you may never find it again."

"That doesn't sound very efficient," Tauriel remarked as she passed them to set down her armload. 

Nori shrugged and deposited his last barrel. 

"Just some advice, lassie," Óin boomed in his rumbling voice, "don't barter away anything important, like your freckles or all your memories before you were three. Some folk are notorious for that and give little in return."

"I'll...keep that in mind," Tauriel assured them as the goods were piled into a small cart and hefted onto the backs of the crew.

Kíli, having been conscripted into accompanying Óin on his supply run, looked up at her as they walked side by side. 

"What is it?" she asked in an amused tone.

"You do have freckles," he confirmed with a small surprised grin as he took a closer look at her face. "I never noticed before. They're cute."

The tips of her ears turned pink at that. 

"Well you have...stubble!" she countered, flustered, and swiped a finger over his lightly bristled cheek.

"Could light a match on that," she observed casually.

Kíli huffed indignantly as she tried to tousle his hair, but his grin only grew wider. Most of the crew went in a single-file line down one branch, but at a little bridge Óin signalled for Kíli and Tauriel to follow him a different way.

The paths lead into every possible direction, up and down and surrounding Kíli. Sometimes paths intersected each other, and here and there the people had put up bridges made of various materials and built at varying sizes. In some places the branches were so steep that it seemed impossible to walk there, had it not been for the steps, smooth and walked into the wood by countless feet over the decades.

Óin occasionally had to remind both Kíli and Tauriel to not just stand in one spot to stare, but he didn’t seem to mind walking a little slower to give them time to take everything in. Overall it was quiet , as far as markets went, but the pulse of life was unmistakable. All the noise around them seemed to merge with the rustling of leaves and the sounds of birds and little animals on the tiniest of branches, giving everything the atmosphere of being deep in a forest rather than a busy town. The light of day grew dimmer the deeper they went into the market, replaced by hanging lanterns, glowing with the light of crystal fireflies; these creatures were lured to the lanterns with sweet nectar, but were free to fly about the markets as they wished, which they did as tiny dots of light. Music floated down from the leaves above and rose from the branches below, and exotic smells wafted through the air, making Tauriel's nose twitch and Kíli's mouth water.

The branches with stalls and vendors were at least wide enough that three carriages might have driven there side by side comfortably. Surprisingly Kíli didn’t feel any nervousness about the height they must be in right now. Perhaps it was because he was so used to climbing trees, perhaps it was that the tree itself wasn’t suspended in the air like the Wind Dancer was.

When Kíli dared to peer over the edge he saw that the branches further down and towards the tree’s trunk were thicker and had more solid and permanent looking tents, and even tiny pavilions made out of the woven branches. It seemed as if the trunk itself had a building carved inside, or possibly something inside a huge knot-hole, but Kíli feared he'd fall if he tried to investigate further.

The entire place seemed to beat with a hundred heartbeats, a thousand different rhythms mingling. 

Every once in a while Kíli saw people who didn’t quite look _human_ , possibly less than Tauriel, only that they didn’t seem out of place either. Some had long curved ears like the star did, or what looked like animal ears. Sometimes Kíli was met with dark eyes with bright irises or pupils that were narrow like a cat’s. Often Kíli wasn’t sure whether he was looking at tiny adults or unusually serene children; sometimes the skin of passing people looked as if they had tattoos in one light, and as if it was actually made of leaves in another. The many floating lamps made it difficult to tell the difference between illusion and reality. He had the presence of mind not to look more than a brief lingering gaze though, assuming that it would be rude to stare.

Slowly he started taking less care about the actual tree and the people, instead shifting his focus to the wares and what they were selling.

There was jewellery and food and fabrics and all the things one would expect to find in a market, but most of it was magic.

There were woven charms and spells similar to what Philip had given Kíli before his departure, and faintly glowing bulbs of light illuminating tools similar to what he’d already seen in Dwalin’s office, such as altitude meters with tiny rotating arrows, jars with clouds and lightning gathering in them, predicting weather. Once he and Tauriel started walking closer to look with curiosity, the vendors started to briefly explain what they had, smiling indulgently as the two just wanted to look.

Some stalls had flowers spun of glass moving as real plants would, small boxes with games where the marbles moved on their own, cracked hand mirrors which the vendor explained were broken promises, the use of which she did not wish to disclose (she simply gazed at Kíli as if he should know the answer to that question on his own.) Others sold forgotten childhood memories, and candy that would make you relive them vividly, or tinctures that would give you a specific kind of dream if you drank them just before going to bed.

There were tri-corn hooves and harps with their strings woven from shed Skite fur, mirrors made from polished scales and window frames which would show the scenery you wished, but not necessarily what actually lay outside your house. One vendor with lots of little powders on their table asked Tauriel if she would like to sell the colour of her hair for any magic she wished in return, and looked quite disappointed when she declined. 

Occasionally Óin would stop to haggle about herbs and tools, which he would hand off to Tauriel and Kíli to carry, if he didn't let them disappear into his seemingly bottomless doctor's bag. Kíli was _sure_ that there was more space in there than was physically possible, but didn't question Óin on the matter.

Slowly but steadily Kíli’s fascination was replaced by determination and a tinge of bitter desperation as he started to examine everything with the thought of finding a present in mind. Surely he’d find _something_ for Ned to like and make him want to see more of Arda, with Kíli. He tried to examine everything he saw carefully, wondering about whether it was of any use and whether he might return to collect it if he didn’t find anything better. 

‘ _Cave-coral snuffbox? No._ ’

‘ _Perfume of Moonlight-on-the-First-Sunday-of-Spring? No._ ’

‘ _Ooh, gloves of the hide of an enchanted lamb...no._ ’

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Tauriel said and gently patted his shoulder once, as Kíli grumbled in annoyance. “I’m sure you’ll find something if you don’t think too hard about it. Just look around and let something catch your eye randomly.”

Kíli pulled a face but he knew his friend was right. The idea of Tauriel trying to help him in finding a gift for Ned only put him more on edge than he already was, and gave him an unexpected twinge of guilt. Óin’s snorts in the background did not help at all either. 

“It has to be special,” he muttered, picking up a bottle of pure undiluted song to examine the blue-tinted glass. It was closed off with string and cloth, but if the cork was removed the bottle would let out music. After a brief moment of consideration he put it back and pulled a sour face. 

“I’m sure it will be special enough just by _you_ being the one to gift it,” Tauriel tried. 

It sounded reasonable, but Kíli just couldn’t promise Ned a _fallen star_ and then come back with something mediocre hoping that the thought behind it would be any good at all!

He looked around, brow furrowed. 

“No, I can’t do that. I want to impress Ned. He won’t love me if I’m just being a silly boy with stupid ideas about the future.”

Óin scoffed but didn’t look up from where he was eyeing some delicate cutting tools for his herbs. Of course he’d hear Kíli’s agitated voice but would not catch calm words directed right at him. 

“Lad, if your sweetheart is unimpressed by you going all this way to get him anything at all, he’s not worth getting anything for,” the healer said and picked up one of the objects he was examining. “And a love that needs to be bought by feats and quests like this isn’t a true one.”

Kíli’s fists clenched and he breathed in through his nose, seething but unable to come up with a counter argument. He kept it at glaring at Óin as Tauriel looked at him with a concerned frown. She’d try to comfort him, or try to make him feel better about his quest and his hope of getting Ned to take him seriously… 

He didn’t want to think about that now, he needed to find a gift. 

‘ _Pipe-weed with colour-changing smoke, no, storm filled eggshells, no, coat of dusk, no-_ ’

Kíli’s eyes shifted towards the tree’s trunk, where the branches got thicker and performers set up their booths on the platforms and criss-crossing branches. Right in front of them there was a dark-skinned woman in a orange tunic, standing next to a few cages of enormous birds, with iridescent plumage the colour of a blazing sunset. One of them was on a little perch, glowing as if it was made of fire, with long gorgeous tail feathers that glinted with all the colours of the rainbow.

“I will get something after all!” Kíli exclaimed, handing Óin’s purchases to a surprised Tauriel, and strolled towards the woman in sure quick steps. 

She had a basket of feathers in front of her, quilt tips of glass and metal on their ends, and a little banner painted in the colours of her birds ( _firebirds_ , her sign called them) praising the quills, and their beautiful feathers and song. 

“May I have a feather from your birds?” Kíli asked in his best businesslike voice as soon as he reached her, “a long one?”

The performer glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“These are the longest I have, right here in my basket.”

“Then may I pluck one from this bird here? I promise I’ll be gentle.”

A strange crooked smile played on her lips, displaying slightly pointed teeth.

"Be my guest. You can have it for free, if you like."

Kíli perked up, surprised that she would agree so easily, as he’d expected having to plead or offer something in return. Determined to prove Óin wrong and bring back the best possible gift he stepped towards the bird. 

For as long as he could remember he’d always been quite good with animals, and birds weren’t as scared of him as they could be. This bird hadn’t moved on its perch either, just sat still and eyed Kíli’s hands suspiciously. 

“Shh,” Kíli whispered and reached out slowly, palms up to try and let the bird know that he meant no harm. 

The feathers were right in front of him, gorgeous tail feathers, long and incredibly soft looking, actually giving off a light with their orange glow and the iridescent rainbow at the edge. Though most of it was the same colour, up close he could see that the feathers had a pattern of some sort, reminiscent of the drawings he’d seen of peacock feathers. 

“This will hurt just a tiny bit but I promise I’ll be careful,” he told the bird and reached out, hand closing around one of the feathers.

The bird let out an angry scream and flapped its wings just as Kíli shrieked in pain and surprise as he staggered back. 

It took him a moment to understand what had happened, and then he realized that his hand was _burned_. Already the skin was an stinging angry red right across his palm where he’d touched the bird, and the pain was slowly spreading as his mind caught up to what had happened. 

He could hear laughter from the owner of the stall, who made no effort to conceal her enjoyment at such a spectacle.

“It burns!” he whined, looking at her with a lost expression. 

“Of course,” she said with disbelief, wiping her eyes. “What do you think would happen if you touched a _firebird_?”

Kíli had nothing to say to that, and immediately Tauriel was there to look over his hand and make sure it wasn’t seriously hurt. Kíli let her, though he felt like his pride had been hurt much more than his quickly blistering hand. 

Óin was quick to join and he shook his head as he took a look as well. 

“Nothing too bad, but I will wrap it up in bandages and soothing salve. Should heal up quick.”

He ushered both Kíli and Tauriel on back towards where the Wind Dancer was, and Kíli tried to resist. 

“Back to the ship,” Óin ordered. 

“No, I still haven’t found anything…”

“You’re injured and should not busy yourself with this nonsense.” 

“I’m fine!” Kíli tried to insist, but right in that moment he clenched his fist out of habit and hissed in pain.

This just made Óin shrug.

“Enough adventuring for one day.”

Kíli reluctantly let himself be led away, trying to ignore the nagging discomfort in his chest. The healer might be right in wanting him to take a break, but he certainly knew nothing about his relationship with Ned, so his earlier commentary had stung.

Tauriel’s gentle reassuring touch on his shoulder distracted Kíli a little, and now he was glad that he had the star on his side. In that moment he was grateful that he had met her, and that stars were people rather than shining gems or small orbs of light.

“Please don’t tell anyone how I got my hand burned,” he whispered to Tauriel, and she nodded solemnly. 

Kíli managed a furtive smile at her before Óin’s glance made him put on his miffed face again. Together they made their way over the branches of the great tree to return to the Wind Dancer.

*

“Did you really try to pluck a firebird’s feather?” Lifur asked in hushed tones and with a nearly admiring stare.

“I- who told you?” 

Kíli threw a glance of bewildered betrayal at Tauriel, who only shrugged helplessly and shook her head. Óin had not spoken to anyone since they returned on board, while Tauriel certainly hadn’t told anyone either since she’d promised and now was denying it. 

“Bofur told me!” Lifur said, not noticing Kíli’s embarrassed squirm. “I think he heard it from Ada, though I haven’t figured out if he saw it from a different branch or whether somebody told _him_ as well.”

The laughter around him made Kíli’s ears burn. 

“How was I supposed to know that a bird could burn me?” he muttered. “That just doesn’t _happen_ where I come from. Very funny, everyone, _very_ funny.”

As it turned out, mere minutes after Óin had brought Kíli to his small office to put a wonderfully cool salve on his hand and wrap it up, the word had spread through the entire crew down in the market. It hadn’t taken _that_ long to have Óin prepare a fresh batch of medicine with his newly bought supplies and examine Kíli’s hand thoroughly, so Kíli didn’t realize why people were staring at him with barely suppressed laughter as they filed back onto the ship a few hours later.

As if the shame of being caught by everyone at such a stupid mistake wasn’t enough, it seemed that he wouldn’t even get away without punishment. When Dwalin and Nori returned to the Wind Dancer and had given orders to set sail, the Captain turned to look Kíli over with a frown. 

“That was a stupid and reckless thing to do, lad,” he said as his eyes lingered on Kíli’s bandaged hand. “It might be good to spend tomorrow helping Óin with his tinctures, something that isn’t taxing or leaves room for more injuries.”

It wasn’t unreasonable and Kíli was the tiniest bit glad that he wouldn’t have to do anything that required heavy lifting, but his face burned mortification at disappointing Dwalin like that. He admired the Captain more and more the longer he knew him, and he truly did not wish to seem like a silly child in his eyes. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting between two large coils of ropes as everyone was navigating the Wind Dancer up and away from the tree market. Kíli tried his best not to pout or meet anyone’s eyes, and thankfully nobody else mentioned his mistake or laughed at him, apart from Bofur briefly coming over to ruffle his hair and offering him a sip from his flask. 

The wind was strong, billowing the sails up hard and making the ship pick up more speed. From his relatively sheltered spot Kíli could see how everyone’s clothes and hair were fluttering about and hitting people in their own face, while he himself only had to brush his hair away a few times. At one point Nori emerged from below deck to squint at the sky for a while, before shrugging and announcing that there wasn’t any indication of an actual storm and that they’d merely reach their destination, somewhere called Belegost, much quicker than expected. Excited muttering could be heard throughout the crew, though Kíli's only desire for this town was the absolute lack of firebirds.

Much as he loathed it, the break gave Kíli plenty of time to think on Óin’s earlier words. 

A love that needed to be bought wasn’t worth anything, for sure. It didn’t apply to what Kíli and Ned had, though! He didn’t have to _buy_ Ned’s affection with a gift from a magical land. He’d just promised to bring him something, so he had to fulfil that promise, didn’t he? That was what you did if you promised things, and Kíli did not like disappointing people or failing to live up to his own word. 

He _had_ Ned’s affections, he had his love and the only obstacle was that they could not really be together in the little town they lived in. Given that Ned was older and hadn’t grown up with the stories Kíli had known since he was a child he was less prone to dreaming about magic either, so _of course_ he wouldn’t just run off to Arda at the mere promise of adventure and being free to love men if he wanted. 

Kíli closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like when he _finally_ reached his goal. Maybe Ned would like wandering after all, though Kíli wouldn’t mind living in one of the cities he’d already seen either. They’d be happy, they’d find a craft and something to do with their time (Kíli assured himself that he wasn’t so immature as to think they could just live their life without any work). Nobody would question their love. 

Finally there would be proof that Kíli was no longer a young silly lad, as Ned sometimes thought since he was older by a few years. They’d be _together_ , they’d…

The sudden realization that he’d been away for months now hit Kíli then. Who was to say that Ned was still waiting for him? What if people had given him up for dead or assumed he didn’t feel like returning if he was still away for this long. Sure, they had welcomed his father back after years of absence, but he hadn’t had anyone waiting for him to return, no sweetheart back in England.

Ned had never thought their relationship would last, given how things went in England. He’d always been sure that one day they would have to break off what they had, lest anyone grew suspicious, and then marry some girl to keep up appearances and tradition. 

The idea of marrying some girl and… _being married_ , having a family and all that was supposed to go along had always made Kíli uncomfortable. The idea of Ned doing the same had upset him when he still was in England, but somewhere along the way it had simply become a tired acceptance. If Ned saw no other way to lead the sort of life he liked, who was Kíli to pressure him into anything else? He was surprised to realize that any sadness he felt was a pity for Ned not having a better choice, rather than jealously. He truly must have matured a lot, he supposed. 

Still, even if Kíli returned to England to find Ned with a fiancé, it did not mean that he could break his promise. Even if it was a goodbye, he needed to bring him something, though he hoped that Ned wouldn’t find a wife _that_ quickly. 

The sky soon started taking on shades of deep orange and purple, with the first stars twinkling above. Kíli didn’t realize that the crew was clearing some space on deck at first, before he saw how Bombur had prepared hand pies rather than something to be eaten from a bowl. As everyone got some of the hot freshly baked goods some other crewmembers started to get instruments, flutes and pots and barrels that could be used for drums. Even Dwalin got out his violin, at which point it was clear that everyone was about to have a small party. 

Rather than dancing or anything of the sort, everyone sat near the warm and bright lamps, leaning together and clapping along as the musicians played a simple melody to warm up, before starting the actual songs. 

Kíli made himself comfortable beside Sigrid and Tauriel, neither of whom were playing an instrument. 

“Is this a normal occurrence?” he chuckled to Sigrid, who was swaying a little in time with the music. 

“Depends. I think everyone’s just in the mood right now. What better excuse do you need?”

Kíli nibbled at his pie and listened to the music then, enjoying the warmth of a nearby lamp and Tauriel’s shoulder occasionally brushing his. When the melodies slowly started combining into a harmony and turned into a tune he perked up, at first not realizing what had changed. The music was oddly familiar, and as the crewmembers started humming along and looking around expectantly he suddenly remembered where he had heard it.

It was exactly the same tune Philip had hummed to him as a lullaby when he still was a little child. 

“I know this song!” Kíli exclaimed, looking around in surprise. “How is this a song I know?”

Before he could wonder about it more Bofur got up to a small cheer and cleared his throat. He sang a note, the musicians focusing on him, before he struck up in song: 

" _A fox invited me to tea_  
_So I dined with him in a tree_  
_He baked a pie of finest mince_  
_And boasted that he was a prince_  
_I knew it was a cunning lie,_  
_But I cared not, a pie’s a pie_."

He ended with a flourish and swept off his hat in a bow. Bombur threw an apple at his head.

Kíli didn’t remember the words, if Philip had ever used any, but he was sure that he did not remember any foxes mentioned in any of the songs he’d heard as a child. 

There was more cheering before Lifur got up to sing back at his uncle.

" _In the middle of the sea_  
_Floats an island, gold and green_  
_Jeweled sand glints under the sun_  
_And honey from the rivers run_  
_I’ll build a boat and sail away_  
_Upon the morrow, break of day."_

Those words weren’t something Kíli remembered either, so he turned to Sigrid again. 

“Is this a common song in Arda? I am sure I have heard the melody before, though not with this words.”

“Not in all of Arda, I never heard it around Laketown before I came on this ship.”

The others must have heard as well, since Bofur bowed to Kíli with a grin to clarify. 

“Aye, Mistress Sigrid wouldn’t have had much opportunity to. It’s an Ereborean folk song, and no wonder _you_ don’t know these words. The melody is pretty much the same in every version, but there’s many variations on the main theme, along with lots of nonsense like what we just heard here.”

“Some even write their own. It’s mostly for loved ones,” Mirra piped up from where she was sitting cuddled up behind Bombur, next to their daughter. She gave her husband a smile. “My dear Bom even had his own verses just for me. Wrote and sang them when we were still young and courting.”

The crew whistled and clapped at that, calling for Bombur to perform it as the quiet cook smiled and avoided looking at anyone at all. When Mirra kissed his cheek and urged him to go on, he did get up, and sang louder and more confident than Kíli would have imagined him to. 

“ _‘Pon a summer midday fair_  
_Spied I a lass with ginger hair_  
_Face besmudged with engine grease_  
_And from hammer’s fall did reach_  
_Sparks like fireflies_  
_Which set my heart a-glow_

_Lovely lassie, steadfast strong_  
_Laugh so hardy, braids so long_  
_Fierce in anger, fast in love_  
_Always with a kiss or two_  
_For me, for me,_  
_When I should see her, fortune be_

_Since words did fail, though hard I tried_  
_I thought I’d charm her with a pie_  
_That secretly was baked with love_  
_And then enchanted she’d become_  
_With me, with me_  
_I think it worked, as you can see…”_

Mirra giggled as Bombur broke off with a blush, and gave him a quick kiss. Little Borra covered her eyes with a groan of “muuuuuum!” which encouraged a chuckle out of a few sailors. 

Bofur walked a little closer to Kíli to speak as the melodies shifted to other songs. 

“‘S usually a happy little song you sing to your loved ones. Lovers or children or siblings or anyone. Most I know are for journeys or those who are separated somehow for a while.”

Glóin put away his small trumpet to nod. 

“We sang it to my lad Gimli as a lullaby. I think everyone has versions their parents sang them, happy little songs…”

Nori threw him a look from where he was lounging a little apart from the musicians, though he was fondling a pan flute in his hand. 

“Not particularly happy if you don’t know if your love will actually return.”

Glóin waved him off. 

“It’s meant to be happy more often than not.”

They went on discussing some of the lyrics they heard along with the few rules the song apparently had in regards of its content (which none agreed on from what Kíli could tell). Tauriel had gone quiet, thinking to herself, before she raised her head and quietly began to sing in her clear voice. The arguing stopped, and everyone turned their heads to listen.

“ _Lovely Lady, heart of hearts_  
_Watch the sky while we’re apart_  
_I’ll wake the moon and raise the sun_  
_I’ll light the stars up, one by one_  
_For you and me_  
_Promise you’ll return to me.”_

The crew was silent for a few moments after her voice faded, so captivated by it that they half expected it to continue forever, and looked at her in a surprised sort of reverence. Tauriel's ears were pink and a small nervous smile played on her lips as she was given a small round of applause. Something tugged at Kili's heart, something warm and pleasant, though he wasn't quite sure why. He realised he was staring at her in awe, and quickly shook his head to clear it.

"I didn't know stars knew that song," he whispered to her.

“We do,” she whispered back. “Some of my kin took great pleasure in wandering Arda’s lands for just a night at a time, where they picked up songs and melodies. We sang some of them to ourselves where no mortal would hear, and we had our own combinations with songs only stars know.”

Kíli listened in fascination. He hadn’t considered that stars would sing or talk or do anything of the like, at least not while they were shining creatures of light. Though since they were living beings it must be natural that they would have music as well. 

“It’s beautiful! You sing really well.”

Tauriel smiled and her cheeks flushed faintly at the praise. She seemed to glow with happiness then, and Kíli couldn’t help but smile back at her which made the star even happier. 

They leaned their shoulders together to listen to the music while the evening’s entertainment lasted. His heart was fluttering in his chest, filling him with happiness, stronger than he had felt for some time and made especially nice after the bad mood he was in earlier. 

Neither of them moved away until more and more crewmembers retired to their hammocks, and the music finally stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the hiatus! There had been school work, wisdom-teeth and several hits of the flu this past month, but we're back on track. This chapter was originally longer, but then it started to get out of hand. There's some golden lion prince cameos awaiting in the next one, if that's of any help though


	35. Home Port

The Wind Dancer made its way swiftly through the sky above the clouds, fast enough that the crew had to tie back their hair more firmly to keep it from getting in the way. The sun still warmed the deck enough that nobody was freezing or cursing the conditions, but Kíli was nearly glad to be below decks in Óin's study today rather than in the open. His hair wasn’t long enough to braid or tie it back, not to mention that he didn’t like doing so anyway, which would have hindered him a great deal. 

It was boring without his companions though, without being able to watch the crew and learn more about the ship with Tauriel, or fool around with Lifur. Óin wasn’t very talkative when he was focusing on his work, so all he said to Kíli was related to creating his medicines, requests to pass some herb or tool and to put away carefully labeled bottles and tins. The only noises were the chopping and grinding of plants and tinctures, the burble of the air’s moisture being caught and stored as additional water supplies, and the general creaking of the ship which Kíli barely even paid any attention to anymore. 

This meant that Kíli barely had anything to distract himself with. Sure, Óin’s office had small cupboards and boxes filled to the brim with interesting things to look at, but in the end most of what Kíli could see was dried plants and pots or bottles, not enough to occupy his mind while he had no idea what any of it was. The truly interesting things were all out of sight, and Kíli couldn’t rummage through the shelves while Óin was still there. 

Kíli’s had thought of Ned more, and of what might be if he did actually want to go to Arda with him. Perhaps just a taste of magic and adventure would make him love it, make him appreciate something that he’d never experienced in England. One couldn’t be sure that somebody would hate something they never tried before, after all. 

Eventually his mind had wandered to what domestic life would be like with Ned. Philip had never had a domestic married life, at least not after Kíli had been born, so Kíli wasn't sure how it was supposed to work. Apart from what every other boy whispered about looking forward to, of course. And the thought of _that_ as an obligation from either party made him feel ill.

He'd never felt attracted to girls more than as friends, it seemed, not when the threat of marriage had loomed over his head with each scheming mother who spied her daughter conversing with a boy. He had never felt even a spark of interest in bedding one of them, even if a pair of bright eyes and a sweet laugh had made his heart flutter once in a while. 

And that was a sure sign that they weren't a good match, wasn't it?

Kíli had to admit that up until this point he'd never considered bedding _Ned_. Even after furtive, passionate kisses and secret smiles, just holding his hand and a peck or two on the lips had been everything Kíli had ever fantasised about. It wasn’t as if he even could hope for more, where he was at the time.

He loved him. So surely domesticity would appeal to him eventually?

And still Kíli felt nothing but nervousness about the idea of sleeping with anyone, even if it was _Ned_. Granted, he wasn’t exactly sure how it would work between them, but he knew it was possible. The harder Kíli tried to stop being a chicken about it and try to find some joy in the thought, the more he worried he became, and wanted to not think of it. He was just nervous like a maiden on her wedding night, Kíli thought.

Kíli’s eyes fell on Óin, who was writing down the exact amount of the newest tincture he’d created in his notebook. He was a healer, he knew how things worked; he would maybe be able to answer questions and keep quiet about it later. Maybe he could make it seem like some embarrassing injury or sickness and nothing more if Kíli were to ask. Still his ears burned as he cleared his throat. 

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, glad that Óin just gave him a brief look and adjusted his hearing trumpet so that he’d be able to hear Kíli while still working. He wouldn’t have to ask again to make the healer hear and lose confidence. 

“Is there something wrong with me if I don’t want to… uhm… sleep… you know… sleep with anyone…?”

Óin squinted at him quizzically, and Kíli continued, "um, wanting it _yet_ , I should say, of course. It's just...isn't wanting it just sort of...supposed to happen by now?"

“There’s precisely nothing wrong with you, lad,” Óin replied brusquely, as if it was a stupid childish question. He continued before Kíli could decide whether to ask more or give up on it. 

“Some don’t want to sleep with anyone, some might if it’s with someone they love. Some don’t love anyone and don’t want to. I never felt like either, and I can’t say I ever missed it.”

Óin scoffed and put away his tools. 

“I think I’m better off without it, given the resulting utter stupidity I’ve seen on the ship because of affections.”

He glared up at the ceiling at that, as if his eyes could see straight through the planks and on deck where the culprit of this stupidity was hiding. Kíli suspected that somebody must have annoyed Óin very much with these matters before. 

“I see,” he muttered, trying to imagine what it was like to never feel the wish to be in love. He couldn’t imagine it for himself; he’d always been so keen on adventure and romance, and a grand love. 

Óin shifted on his chair to face Kíli, ready to consult him and make sure everyone on the ship was healthy and happy. 

“Did you not know this? I thought I heard Mirra telling you. Not that I was listening of course, what with my ears being as they are," he huffed dismissively and fiddled with his hearing trumpet.

“She did tell me,” Kíli confirmed. 

He hadn’t given it much thought, but true, it had been explained to him. 

“See? Much as you can desire lads and lasses and anyone at all, you can also _not_ desire anyone at all.”

“But how can you _know_? How do you know that you don’t desire anyone?”

“How do you know that you only care for lads?” Óin countered, and Kíli had nothing to say to that. It was just normal for him to think this of himself, given that he couldn’t remember ever properly being in love with a girl. The silence was answer enough to Óin. 

“Only you can tell for sure what you want and what you don’t want,” the healer explained, his voice a bit more gentle than his usual practical demeanor.

“You don’t even have to be _sure_ ; just do what feels right in the moment. But don’t ever do something because you think it will make other people happy. You can find the love of your life but never wish to sleep with them, and it can work just fine. People live just fine without it, so you can be happy, or maybe your love needs things you simply can't give. But you can't change who you are. The only lovers worth taking are those who can respect that."

Kíli sighed. It still felt awkward to be talking to Óin about these things, but no more awkward than it might have been with his father (only that he was sure Philip would be very awkward about his advice in turn).

“Then how do you _know_ you’re in love if you don’t… want anything?Where’s the difference between having a friend and being in love?”

Óin shrugged a little. 

“Only you can tell that for yourself, I couldn’t tell you how it feels.”

Then he scoffed and shook his head, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "why don't you go ask the first mate," but ignored Kíli's request to repeat it louder.

“Trust me, there’s plenty of people who fall in love and don’t realize that they did so in the first place. Pain to watch, I can tell you that. Nothing is worse to watch every day than _that_.”

Before Kíli could ask him what he meant by that, Óin turned to pick up some clean and empty tins from a small box to prepare more of his stock. 

“Now pass me that cutting board next to you lad, if you’ve had quite enough of these conversations.”

*

The day was slowly drawing to an end with the clouds low on the horizon hiding the setting sun from. It was a gorgeous sight, but the crew was looking ahead rather to the side where nature was painting the sky in dark orange and pink. Everyone looked eager in anticipation, occasionally stopping what they were doing to look ahead, sometimes more obviously on the lookout, sometimes just stealing small glances but not bothering for another couple of minutes. 

“Is it special, this next place we're going?” Kíli asked Lifur after they’d finished Bombur’s stew of the day. He flexed his still aching hand a little, not as keen on new fantastical places as he would have been two days ago.

Lifur wolfed down his food in record speed before nodding.

“We’re going to Belegost!”

“Is that a city?”

“It’s the Wind Dancer’s home port. _Home_. Most of us have family there and nearly everyone lives in Belgost when we’re not flying. Captain Dwalin’s brother is managing all our land business, and we have houses for each of our families there.”

Kíli looked around to pay closer attention to everyone around him. That would explain why everyone was anticipating the port more than usual. 

He felt a pang of homesickness and wished he could visit his father as well, just for a few days. Then he spotted Tauriel standing at the far end of the deck, chatting with Sigrid as they looked ahead. He didn’t know if Tauriel missed the stars, and being among her own family, in a place that wasn’t the least bit hostile to her and where she didn’t have to hide. Kíli wasn’t sure just how a star might return to the sky after falling, but it certainly wasn’t easier than trying to find a way back to the Wall. Sigrid herself wasn’t even an Ereborean, so she probably wouldn’t be seeing her family any time soon. Kili couldn’t recall her mentioning how often she even returned to her little town-on-a-lake. If either woman felt any pang of homesickness, hers would be worse than his, so Kíli contented himself with knowing that he would return to his father after a while anyway. 

There were more hills below now, and mountains rising shallowly towards the west. It was growing darker now, but as Kíli stepped to the bow he could still see the city they were headed for. From what he could see Belegost was smaller than Ered Luin, or perhaps just stretched out into the distance. It was dense and winding, with all manner of buildings seemingly stacked on top of each other in places, little bridges and balconies just visible through the clutter. Tiny lights were shining where the first lamps were being lit, giving the city a gorgeous glow. 

Instead of heading right to the middle of that expanse, however the Wind Dancer started turning right, where the streets and buildings of the city were branching out to thinner areas. Instead of standing side by side the houses here were more solitary and one could see something that could be warehouses or barns away from the more densely built-up areas of Belegost.

Kíli couldn’t see anything that looked like a dock space anywhere in their direction yet; the darkness slowly creeping across the sky was starting to make it a bit harder to see as the sun was nearly gone behind the mountains. 

Then finally he saw where the Wind Dancer’s bowsprit was pointing 

Away towards the outskirts of Belegost and up towards a slant height in the land below, jutted a solitary skyship dock. It was surrounded by several houses and one long building that must be a warehouse, encircled by a wall and nearly a separate town district all on its own. 

“We’re here!” Lifur called from somewhere behind Kíli, and everyone let out an excited cheer.

Even Dwalin sounded excited as he barked orders to prepare the ship for docking and commanded Glóin to take over the helm.

Kíli would have loved to stay and watch as the handful of buildings was coming closer, but somebody touched his shoulder and asked for his help to carry the boarding plank and ropes up on deck. Bringing up the coils of rope would not hurt his hand now, so there really was no reason not to help,and Kíli shrugged before going below deck to fetch what he was asked for. 

Below everyone was chatting excitedly, happy to be back. Kíli heard talk of children or spouses, of being in a nice big bed or eating the treats of the markets of Belegost. Bifur had a smile on his face and ignored everyone, while Borra seemed excited about seeing the siblings that had stayed behind again. 

The usually quite coordinated crew was scattering about in the narrow corridors and steps today, and Kíli had to press himself flat against the wall to make room for the plank-carriers and not be smacked by it. He didn’t mind, even if he could not quite share in their excitement. Kíli _was_ looking forward to seeing everyone’s families and what domestic life was like in Erebor as well, but now he felt a bit awkward around his companions. 

He founds the ropes and started heaving them on his shoulder to carry up carefully, mindful of the ache of his hand. The ship jerked a tiny bit, and then stopped moving as they had reached the dock. Everyone was hurrying up to the deck now, or towards their bunks to grab their things. 

“Do you need any help with tha’?” Bofur asked as he passed Kíli, glancing at his hand. 

Kíli’s lips twitched a little in a half-hearted smile. 

“No, I’m fine,” he assured Bofur.

The man nodded and hurried up on deck too, leaving Kíli to gather the rest of the ropes so he wouldn’t have to walk up twice. He could hear voices and cheer, and despite wanting to see what was going on he didn’t try to work even faster. He walked slowly under the weight, and when he finally reached the deck, lamps had been lit both on deck and the construction of the dock, despite it not being dark yet.

Kíli moved towards where the plank was already set up but not secured yet. Some crewmembers had gathered there, all chatting, and it took Kíli a moment to realize that they were standing around somebody he’d never seen on the ship before. 

A young man stood between the crewmembers, smiling as he spoke with them. His short beard was neatly trimmed and his hair moved in the breeze and shone golden in the last daylight. In his elegant red and gold clothing he stood out from the crew in their more practical and travel-worn garments. His posture was proud and tall, and he looked important somehow, perhaps a rich merchant, or the son of one.

Kíli wasn’t sure what to make of him as he had to move closer to set down the ropes for somebody else to secure the plank with. Up close he could see that the man couldn’t be much older than Ned. He had simple but neat braids in his hair, keeping it out of his face a little, and lips that curled into a smile easily and Kíli thought that he must be basking in attention gladly. 

Kíli half wanted to turn away and find Dwalin or Tauriel or at least something to do, but just then the young man finished greeting the crew. He turned, eyes moving towards Kíli, and Kíli hesitated in his tracks. 

“You are new on the Wind Dancer,” the newcomer noted right away. 

‘ _Who is he to be so familiar with the crew while looking so out of place with half-pirates?_ ’, Kíli wondered as he paused as well, staring back at the man’s bright blue eyes. ‘ _A relative? Hadn’t Dwalin mentioned being related to the royal family somehow? That man couldn’t possibly be related to someone like Dwalin, could he now?_ ’

“Yes,” he replied with his usual cheer and a wary but polite smile, unsure of what else to tell him. How did one deal with respectable people in Arda?

The man looked Kíli up and down curiously, and Kíli had to try hard not to squirm. He didn’t like the feeling of being judged now. He held out his right hand to shake, making a bit more effort to smile properly. Stranger or not, the man was a friend of the crew, and that earned him some level of respect.

The man’s eyes landed on Kíli’s hand and his smile widened.

“Oh! So _you’re_ the one who tried to get a hand on the firebird feathers!” he said, laughter in his voice. 

‘ _So much for that._ ’

Under normal circumstances Kíli might have thought that he had a pleasant voice, fit for charming people, but now he just didn’t feel like putting up with mockery of any sort. 

He dropped the ropes harder than necessary, glaring at the man as he squared his shoulders. Why was _this_ the first thing anybody new found out about him? Who was he to insult Kíli like that, as if he were just a stupid stranger to Arda? Kíli was loath to let his one ridiculous mistake be his only impression upon the people of Arda.

“What do you know about it? And _how_ do you even know that?” he snapped, and the merchant just raised his eyebrows.

“I asked the crew what happened since we last saw each other and they told me about it,” he said amused, as he gestured at the crewmembers who at least had the decency to look sheepish. "Sounded like quite an experience."

Kíli bristled at that. He was overreacting, he knew that, but he had little patience to deal with things like this today, and he wasn’t in the mood to try and reign his temper in. 

“I did not mean to offend,” the man told him, displaying his palms as a sign of peace but his tone still was too light given how angry Kíli was growing.

“Then think before you speak, why don’t you,” he grumbled, perhaps too quiet for the man to hear.

Kíli’s hand moved to the hilt of the short borrowed sword he carried on his belt, and he glared at the man, daring him to say another word. 

To Kíli’s surprise the man show absolutely no signs of discomfort at the slight threat, he also shrugged a little and fully unsheathed a sword of his own. Only then did Kíli realize that there were two swords on his belt, half hidden by the man’s coat.

The man flicked his wrist to swing his sword in a pretty loop, before holding it in a loose grip, not pointing anywhere in particular. His unchanged stance and the slightly curious look he was giving showed all too clearly that he did not expect to use the sword in a fight now, and none of the crew seemed too nervous either. That, or he thought Kíli was so little of a threat that he did not have to be taken seriously.

Kíli’s heart skipped a beat, undecided for a moment as he wasn’t sure whether this was annoying him even more, or whether to be nervous about possibly having to face somebody who might just be much better and more experienced than he was. 

“Fíli!” 

At Dwalin's booming voice they both turn their heads instantly, breaking eye contact (and Kíli's silent glare). 

“Dwalin!”

The Captain was striding towards them quickly, a wide grin on his face. The young man returned the grin and tucked his sword away so he could walk towards him. Dwalin hugged him hard, then stepped away and clasped his shoulder. 

“Waiting on us once again I see. Before the plank was even properly in place, I wager?”

Kíli watched as the man laughed and shook his head. 

“Oh you know me, family makes me impatient, I can’t just stand by .”

“And already swinging your sword about, yes? I didn’t teach ye to use those for you to bare it everywhere you go, lad.”

Most of the crew had finally come on deck and Kíli let go of his sword, his shoulders slumping a little. The man, Fíli, was straightening his back a little as he looked at Dwalin, in the same admiring way Kíli caught himself doing at times. He felt a short spike of jealousy as he saw how Dwalin’s hands was still on Fíli’s shoulder. They must have known each others for many years, if Dwalin was the one to teach him to use a weapon, as people in Erebor usually learnt so at an early age. 

Tauriel moved to stand at Kíli’s side, smiling politely. If she had witnessed the brief interaction between Kíli and the newcomer, she made no mention of it.

Them standing together made Dwalin remember to properly introduce them though.

“These two are our new crewmembers: Tauriel, and you’ve already met Kíli,” Dwalin told Fíli. “This is Fíli, who probably should have waited on ground to meet everyone.”

Fíli nodded to them and gave a polite "at your service."

Then Dwalin turned to the crew. 

“Onwards, I know you’re all burning to get to see everyone.”

The crew cheered and everyone moved to get their belongings or walk over the plank and make their way down. Dwalin stayed behind with Fíli, waiting for the ship to be near empty before following his crew, and Kíli shifted a little to the side to let others pass so he could step on the plank without being in anyone’s way. 

As Kíli moved towards it, Fíli threw him a look, lips twitching in an apologetic smile. He must have caught on to just how miffed Kíli was. 

“I apologize, I meant no harm,” he said again and this time Kíli just nodded before stepping onto the plank. 

"P'raps you'd tell me what really happened, over a pint, to settle the matter?"

"Perhaps, but maybe it's none of your business," snapped Kíli. 

Fíli only raised an eyebrow and shrugged before turning away from him.

Nori appeared in the door leading down towards his and the Captain’s rooms and slipped passed everyone swiftly. 

“Wasting everyone’s time by being where you’re not supposed to, princeling?” he asked as he walked past Fíli, with the same taunting tone he’d used to address Kíli for the longest time after they first met. It gave Kíli some satisfaction to learn he wasn't the only one who put up with it.

Fíli bristled a little and focused his attention back to Dwalin, who didn’t seem to mind it. 

Nori was behind Kíli as they walked over the plank to the docking tower, rolling his eyes. 

“Always this business with his highness, trying to get on board every time he happens to be where the ship is. As if he doesn’t have anything else to do. As if _we_ don’t have anything better to do than to babysit the royal-”

He was nudged by Bofur before he could finish the sentence. 

“Highness?” Kíli asked, making Nori slow just a tiny bit before disappearing on the stairs leading to the ground. 

Nori pulled a face as he looked towards the ship, a hint of bitterness he couldn’t quite hide in the twist of his mouth. 

"Wait, wait," Kíli sputtered as he hurried after Nori into the building "do you mean _actual_ highness, in the literal sense, not sarcasm? Like, a _proper_ highness? Royalty highness?"

“That boy over there is the prince of Erebor, the nephew of King Thorin and one of Dwalin’s distant cousins. He’s the heir and he’s a pain to be around too long.”

Nori didn’t wait up to see Kíli’s open-mouthed surprise, instead hurrying his steps again and disappearing behind a corner of the twisted stairs with a flick of his long braid. 

“The prince?” Kíli whispered, suddenly very aware of how his little display could have been considered a threat to royalty.

Bofur and some of the others who’d heard laughed about Nori’s antics but Kíli turned to them nervously. 

“Is it alright that he’s insulting the prince? It’s not treason or anything?”

Apart from Nori everyone was still walking at a slower pace, and Bofur patted Kíli’s head from where he could reach it a few steps above him. 

“Treason? Ah, for what, he’s just another lad, it's not as if he's in danger."

They walked on, and Kíli lost sense of how high up they were.

“Is there a reason Nori doesn't like him?" 

Kíli half hoped there was an actual reason to dislike the young man, just so he could feel justified in his earlier outburst.

“Fíli is a good lad, good person and hard worker and very kind,” Bofur said with a sage nod. “Our first mate is just angry cause Fíli’s canoodling with his little sister.”

He perked up then, not caring for Kíli’s wide-eyed surprise. 

“Oh but I think I we’re being welcomed.”

He pointed towards the bottom of the stairs where the light changed in a way that suggested a doorway closeby. Now that Kíli wasn’t focusing on what he had to say he could hear excited voices. 

“Come on then, let’s meet the family.”


	36. A Warm Welcome to Belegost

Upon walking out of the narrow docking tower Kíli found himself standing at what looked a small town square at first, with a warehouse and a smaller building that looked as if it contained the office and management of a port. There were trees and hedges as well, beyond which Kíli could see a few houses and garden walls. He didn’t get to examine them for much longer before his attention was turned to the people moving swiftly towards the dock and those who had already greeted the crewmembers.

There was laughter all about him and hearty embraces where families were reunited.

A woman with a simple working dress and a small flock of tiny redheaded children was kissing Bifur’s cheeks soundly, as the bravest of the children ran towards Bofur with screams of “uncle!”.

Another woman with an elegant dress and a mane of light blonde hair looked through the crew impatiently before spotting Glóin and waving at him. When Glóin surged forward to catch her in his arms, Kíli could hear her laugh and telling him that their son was off fetching a present for him.

It was a sweet sight all around, and Kíli couldn’t help but smile as he stepped out of the way of everyone who wanted to reach their loved ones as soon as possible. More and more arrived as the news of the skyship arriving spread, and even those who had not seen were alerted. Soon the entire crew was on solid ground. 

Tauriel and Sigrid joined Kíli in his attempt not to get in anyone’s way, since neither of them had family there either.

“That one over there is Imlís, she has a little goldsmith workshop,” Sigrid started to introduce quietly, as she’d already met the families on a previous stop in Belegost. She pointed towards the elegant woman on Glóin’s side, and Kíli could see why her husband would talk and praise her with such admiration.

“That lad over there is their son, little Gimli. Looks very much like a very small Glóin without a beard. He’s about my little brother’s age."

“Bifur’s over there with Lari. She helps look after Mirra and Bombur’s children, since Mirra’s own brothers aren’t always in Belegost; usually either Bombur or Mirra stays in Belegost at a time to raise them, while the other sails with the ship. This is the first time they've both gone together in some time, I believe."

The crowd quietened a little as a man came out of the official-looking building closest to the docking tower. He himself looked quite official as well, with a rich red robe and elegant boots and gloves, fluffy white hair that continued down the side of his face in equally fluffy sideburns, and had a small pair of spectacles perched on his large hooked nose. Kíli thought that he wouldn’t be too out of place in some of England’s great cities, as a judge or banker perhaps. There was a friendly twinkle in his eye and he wore a smile as he approached the crew.

Dwalin and Fíli had joined them by then, leaving the ship empty. The man in the red robes approached them with an outstretched hand.

As he reached them he gave Fíli a knowing look, and the prince looked away sheepishly. Then the man turned to Dwalin.

“Brother!” he greeted, smiling.

“Balin!” the Captain laughed clasping the man’s shoulders. “By my beard, you are shorter and wider than last we met.”

“Wider, not shorter,” the man corrected him. “Sharp enough for both of us.”

They chuckled heartily at each other’s jabs, looking at one another for a brief moment with a brotherly fondness, before leaning back and then cracking their heads together.

Kíli felt Tauriel jump a little at his side, and looked around as the crew let out gruff cheers and grunts of approval at the display.

“Is that… not…” she didn’t finish and only pulled a pained face as the brothers turned to address the crew.

"I'm sure you all wish to reunite with your families now," Balin started as he looked over the sailors. “So come on over, we will have supper- ach, what am I on about, a _feast_ for our wayward crew!”

Wild applause erupted from all present, and before Kíli could wonder how there would be enough food for a surprise feast everyone started heading towards the long warehouse. There was a wall right behind it, which seemed to encircle the rest of the small settlement, so there was no other destination but the warehouse itself.

Lamps were lit to illuminate half of it at least, ignoring the parts that had stacks of planks and spare rope and rows of big boxes stashed away. Tables and chairs and benches were quickly fetched from the surrounding houses, soon assembling enough mismatched furniture for the Wind Dancer’s entire crew and their families to find a place to sit. As soon as that was done the unfamiliar people who had not been on the ship went to bring food and drink. Baskets of baked goods and cheese and fruits and cold meats and pies filled the tables in mere minutes; casks of wine and ale and all the fantastical brews Kíli had seen in taverns and villages were set out, leaving no doubt that everyone would be fed tonight.

It was no wonder when the first instruments started appearing among the inhabitants of the small port settlement, and somebody even set out a gramophone that played a lively music to be heard even with the increasingly loud chatter. Kíli had never seen one, and was surprised to find that it was operated by mechanisms and not by magic at all.

“What a welcome!” Tauriel observed, turning her head to try and see all that was going on and the constant bustling movement of the people fetching more or trying to greet everyone personally.

Sigrid laughed. “None can say that Ereboreans aren’t very hearty when it comes to their families.”

The three found a few stools to carry over to a corner of one of the tables, sticking together once more. Kíli felt a little nervous about being so out of place with everyone naturally reacquainting with their family, but since Sigrid was relaxed, both he and Tauriel relaxed as well. It _was_ especially fun to watch the rougher crewmembers act so friendly and even downright sweet to their families.

Gimli and Fíli had positioned themselves between the barrels of drink, tapping and handing out jugs full of the stuff as they chatted. They were cousins as well, as Sigrid explained, and really, it was strange to think of Glóin or Dwalin as royalty (no matter how distant), but since Fíli was related to them and was also the crown prince, the reality of that was harder to shake. The Captain’s brother seemed much more like somebody Kíli could see being related to the King, but then again Erebor seemed to have different expectations of what nobles should and could be like.

Not everyone had met all of their family yet; more unfamiliar people gradually appeared, returning from their work at the main city or from their houses after getting suitably dressed. Some of the older children were sent to bring them the news of the Wind Dancer’s return.

One who hadn’t met any family yet was Nori. Though he had embraced and greeted others, it all had been brief and he hadn’t lingered. Kíli knew that the first mate had at least two sisters living here though, and he grew increasingly curious about finally seeing the family of such a man.

Nori lingered in a chair, completely relaxed with a mug in his hands, idly watching the others without joining any conversation or the music and without taking food.Then suddenly, he spotted something that made him perk up and his eyes brighten, and he set his mug aside. Nori grinned widely and stretched his arms out as he walked towards the entrance of the warehouse.

“Little dove!” he cooed, and both Kíli and Tauriel turned immediately, eager to see who he was addressing.

A young woman was hurrying towards Nori, arms laden with jars. She had a many layered dress in pale purples and a big cosy knitted shawl and mittens, ribbons bounced in her fringed hair and her cheeks dimpled as she laughed. She quickly put down her armload of jars (which seemed to be full of pickled things) on the nearest flat surface before gathering her skirts and running the last bit of the short distance.

Nori quickly caught her in his arms, attempting to spin her around, but the girl wrinkled her nose and whined.

“Nori I’m too old to be spun around!” she protested, wiggling in his grip so he couldn’t lift her..

He laughed and reached out to ruffle hair her before she could dodge.

“Ah, my little Ori all grown up. If you’re too old for hugs, that means you're too old for these, I suppose." He sighed forlornly as he procured a bag of sweets, tied with a colourful string, and hefted it in his hand. 

"Whatever shall I do with them? Ah I suppose I'll just have to eat them all myself..."

Ori's eager expression and hand motion broke Nori out of his mock-disappointment, and he grinned widely, but held the bag out of her reach before she could snatch them.

“Not too old for hugs then either,” he stated with a meaningful look. Ori shook her head rapidly, braids and ribbons bobbing about her head, and Nori tossed her the bag.

“Never too old for hugs,” she agreed and quickly let the bag disappear in the layers of her shawl. As soon as they were safely stored away she jumped to wrap her arms around Nori’s neck, nearly throwing him to the ground.

“I miss you when you’re gone for so long!”

Nori petted her hair, smoothing down what he’d messed up earlier.

“I come and go how the wind carries me, little mouse.”

Before they were done hugging another woman entered the building, quickly spotting the two and moving to join, faster than she had walked as she entered, but also not hurrying as Ori had.

She looked like a proper lady to Kíli as well, in a tasteful burgundy dress, laced to embrace her full figure and decorated with subtle lace embroidery. Her hair was pulled back in intricate braids and her soft round face had a graceful look about it. This was exactly what Kíli would imagine a baroness to look like, and here she was, walking to Ori and Nori to put a hand on each of their backs to pull them closer in greeting.

“Are those Nori’s sisters?” Tauriel whispered to Sigrid, sounding as surprised as Kíli felt.

“Yes, the elder is Dori and the younger Ori.”

“But they look so…” Kíli made a vague hand gesture, unsure how to describe the gentle and soft young girl and the elegant lady, in comparison to their sharp wayward fox of a brother. “And Nori is so… How are they _related_?”

He could see it a little, Ori’s sharp nose and freckles with her hair just a little darker than Nori’s, and Dori’s eyes and the shine of her hair. But how could two women like that have a brother who was a part-time pirate?

Dori stayed to speak to Nori as Ori already wandered off to grab something to eat. She picked up a scone to nibble on, and Kíli saw her and Fíli exchange a small furtive glance which had both of them smiling sweetly before turning away, lest somebody see and tease them.

The music picked up a little and some got up to dance around like the crew had done once at the waterfall. Not everyone was moving though; many were preoccupied with the food and drink, and those who had children held them close or talked to their spouses and siblings, glad to finally be close with them. Most seemed to be joking around, while Dwalin and Balin were having a quiet talk, with big tankards in their hands.

Lifur grabbed two of Bombur and Mirra’s littlest children and pulled them to dance, calling for the the youngest children in the hall join as well, and making every other dancer have to watch out to not step on any of them. One very small girl with a tooth-gap and fluffy red hair toddled over to Tauriel at one point, holding out her pudgy hand to ask the star for a dance.

Tauriel, with such a sweet awestruck expression that Kili’s heart melted a little, agreed gladly, quietly fascinated by children in general. Though it was a wild dance where one didn’t necessarily need to have a partner, the little girl insisted on holding both of Tauriel’s hands as they danced, and Tauriel giggled as she shuffled along. She had to bow down quite far, being as tall as she was, and Kili found it such an adorable sight that only Sigrid’s gentle elbow to his ribs brought him back to awareness of his surroundings, though he couldn’t quite get rid of his silly smile.

Sigrid left to help Mirra with containing the small flock of children wanting to be close to her, so Kíli was left alone at his spot. Not wanting to just sit around, he got up and joined the dance, spinning freely and smugly around Tauriel, who had no choice but to match the wobbly pace of her small dancing partner. He couldn’t help teasing her a little, leaping past her quickly in the music’s pace and winking at her each time she caught his eye. Tauriel retaliated by somehow ushering another of Bombur’s children closer and then having them grab Kíli’s hand to demand a dance as well. They were both stuck with gently holding the children’s hands until the little ones grew tired and decided to find their parents or uncles instead.

Tauriel was radiating joy, even after she discovered that her hands were smeared in breadcrumbs from where the child had held them. Her hair had a soft silver glow under the many lamps and fires around them, and Kíli could not even remember having a bad mood earlier as he was looking at her.

As he was hungry from the long day of work he returned to the table, while Tauriel and Sigrid left the warehouse to sit outside in the cool night air.

Despite the many people who had eaten already the tables were still full, so Kíli found himself a bowl and started grabbing whatever was closest to him, hardboiled eggs and sausages as well as scones and sweet tarts to round it off. As he chewed Kíli peered around to see what everyone was doing.

Most who had small children were starting to bring them home so they could have a good night of sleep, and some looked tired themselves. Balin had moved away to speak to Óin, and the Captain was still sitting where he had before, drinking still and relaxing. He was far more relaxed than Kíli had ever seen him in a port tavern, and he was quicker to laugh. Nori had claimed the seat Balin had vacated earlier, and in order to be heard over the noise he was leaning close to whisper in Dwalin’s ear. Dwalin chuckled heartily at Nori’s joke, and leaned in to respond, close enough that their foreheads were nearly touching. Nori didn’t move away, so he must not have minded.

Gimli was sitting between the barrels of ale and mead, sipping from his own mug as he glanced around every so often, which made Kíli realize that the boy was keeping out of his father’s sight. Fíli had left him to his task of filling the jugs of any who wanted more, and had joined the dance floor.

It was strange to see him there, among the others. He’d doffed his coat and weapons belt, and now he was dancing like any other member of the party. It was not at all like how Kíli thought a prince would act or dance, and now that they were among the crew’s family who weren’t dressed for work Fíli didn’t even stand out anymore. Nobody looked as if they were too scared to approach him, and he was teased and danced with like he was just a regular young man.

Ori had joined the dance floor as well, looking a little shy but still laughing with the rest of them as her skirts spun and billowed around her everywhere. Kíli noticed that she was dancing with Fíli the most, the two of them circling each other in their movements and looking towards each other as much as they could, but not touching or getting within an arm’s length of each other. With both of Ori’s siblings so close by and Fíli being _the prince_ Kíli supposed that it would be frowned upon to have them do any more. It was like back at home, where young couples or just any friendly girl and boy would be watched closely if there was a chance of them getting inappropriate.

Kíli picked up another sausage from a plate he hadn’t tried yet and didn’t pay attention to anyone in particular. Fewer people were still dancing as the evening went on, probably growing tired or just preferring to drink and talk. The musicians dropped their instruments as well, but the gramophone provided the company with enough music on its own.

Balin had left his cousins and was speaking with Dori now, both of their cheeks reddened from wine and both joking, neither of them being as uptight as Kíli would have assumed them to be. Bifur was slow-dancing with his wife, and not matching the music’s pace in the slightest. Lari’s chin rested against her husband’s head as they did so, mindful of the metal sticking out of it, not caring for the others at all. Nori and Dwalin had scooted their chairs closer together, their shoulders nearly touching as they spoke. Nori’s eyes were on the tankard in his hand as he idly moved it to make the liquid inside swirl. Gimli and Lifur were now both hiding behind one of the barrels, half-asleep from the looks of it.

The chair next to Kíli scraped against the ground, and as he looked up he saw Fíli sliding into it, before placing a jug of ale in front of Kíli.

“Let’s have a drink,” the prince suggested.

“Why?”

Kíli eyed the ale suspiciously, but it just looked as if Fíli had tapped it a few moments ago.

“To apologize, and because I made a bad first impression.”

That seemed sensible to Kíli, and as he didn’t want to seem ungrateful or like a stick in the mud, he took the jug and raised it.

“To a better second impression then,” he suggested, and Fíli knocked his own jug against Kíli’s with a smile.

“And may it be an excellent one.”

Kíli took a sip from the ale, briefly pulling a face at its bitterness. It tasted better than some of the stuff he’d gotten to try back at home though, so he drank more.

They didn’t speak as they drank, both watching what everyone else was doing, and though Kíli felt like he should say something, it wasn’t too awkward a silence either.

“So… you and the first mate’s little sister?” he asked after a while, when his ale was half gone and he felt a little braver. He didn’t know what else to say.

To his surprise Fíli snorted into his drink, blushed to the tips of his ears and looked at him with a little alarm in his face.

“Who told you?” he hissed in hushed tones.

“Bofur,” they both said in unison, and they stared at each other in surprise until Kíli cracked up laughing, while Fíli groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Oh, that blasted man can’t keep quiet, can he?” he muttered.

“Everyone likes a bit of gossip, and the entire crew loves Bofur for providing it,” Kíli shrugged as Fíli slumped over the table a little.

Kíli tentatively patted his back in comfort.

“He did the same to me a few days ago. I heard Bombur's wife scoffing that his over-keen ears are both the reason he's kept on the ship, and the reason he'd ever be danger of getting sacked." He shook his head. "Was awfully embarrassing when he told everyone about me a few days ago, and it wasn't even about anyone I fancy."

Fíli shrugged and leaned his cheek against his hand.

“My relationships are....well, I don't like them being gossip. It's not fair to Ori-I mean, to-to whomever I'm with. I don't think anyone in my family was ever comfortable in that regard. Except my mother." Fíli's lip quirked in a half smile. 

"She turned up her nose at the gossip when she brought my father home and married him. He wasn't noble, you see. She seemed to think the gossip funny, I was told. Usually people in my family are expected to have the grace to be quiet about marrying common folk. And she was one of the King’s _grandchildren_ too!"

“You’re nearly not what I expected a prince to be,” Kíli blurted out. At Fíli’s raised eyebrows he struggled to come up with what to say, waving his hand helplessly and nearly spilling some of his drink.

“You know… being private and talking to common folk like it’s nothing and all that. Princes aren’t like that, usually.”

Fíli’s eyebrows rose higher.

“What sort of princes have you dealt with? They sound rather unpleasant."

Kíli hummed.

“I don’t know… I’m not from Arda, and the princes at home all were described very differently in fairy tales, and the actual royal family is...well, nobody actually _sees_ them so I don’t actually know what they’re like. I haven’t _ever_ met anyone noble before.”

Fíli pointed towards where Dwalin was filling two tankards with mead.

“Your Captain is part of Erebor’s royal family though.”

Kíli watched Dwalin bring the mead back to his seat.

“He doesn’t _look_ very royal.”

“True. He’s always been reluctant about the fancy and courtly aspects of his birth. I mean, he’s the second son of a family that isn’t directly in line to the throne, so he doesn’t have to do all that much, but he will if it’s absolutely necessary. I remember it from being little, he’d always get in a bad mood from not wanting to be there, and then everyone else would get scared and agree with Balin or my uncle more readily. In a way, it was actually useful.” 

He smiled, pushing a strand of golden hair behind his ear, only to have it fall immediately back into place. “We used to joke that his mood is what actually created the storms for him to catch lightning in.”

Kíli tried to imagine Dwalin in courtly clothes, and failed. What he could imagine well was the Captain’s impressive statue and glare among a bunch of hunching frightened nobles. Who wouldn’t be intimidated by such a man?

“How did you end up on board anyway?” Fíli asked. “What port was it?”

“It wasn’t a port at all.”

“Oh? Where did you meet the Captain to sign on then?”

“We crashed into the ship in the middle of a thunderstorm. Tauriel and I had some… trouble with a glider…” Kili coughed awkwardly and took another sip of his ale.

Fíli’s eyes widened. For a second Kíli thought he’d call him a liar as the prince shook his head slightly.

“Now that must have been an amazing entrance,” he said, clearly impressed. “Let’s drink to that!”

Before Kíli could protest his near empty tankard was snatched away and Fíli went to get more for them.

They raised their drinks at each other and downed more of the ale. Kíli could feel his cheeks and body heating up slowly, and he felt as if he was growing tired. He wondered if he was slowly getting drunk.

Fíli’s cheeks were still slightly flushed, and his hair was a little mess from him brushing back strands of hair over and over.

“For the record,” he said after a while. “About the firebird.”

“Hm?”

“I would have done something like that too, if I could make a beautiful and rare quill for Ori out of it. I would be stupid for a bit as well. So it’s not that embarrassing at all.”

Somehow Kíli felt a tightness in his chest, and endless gratitude.

He put his arm around Fíli’s shoulders and nodded.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly, and tapped Fíli’s jug with his own.

*

Smaug was seething. The skin on her hands and all over her arms was cracking and sizzling, each breath she took ending in a small puff of smoke as sparks briefly lit up her face.

She could feel her nostrils flaring and moving like they should not do on this false face of hers, only on the grand lizard muzzle she usually called her own. Her skin was breaking and twisting into scales, briefly disappearing when she focused on it.

It had been like this for weeks, she knew. Her magic was very low, but it had been when she had started the journey. It was her anger that made it near impossible for Smaug to focus her energy on restoring her looks completely. Anger at having the star escape from right under her eyes, anger at the Orcs failing so completely and the escape that puny Ereborean boy had somehow initiated.

She needed sleep, or at the very least just a long quiet rest in some nice cave; she needed to calm her mind and then her magic would be enough to fix all of the imperfections of her disguise. She hadn’t even managed to turn the torn and burnt dress back into the gorgeous red gown she had started the journey in. Magic could only stretch so far where a proper needle and thread were needed, and neither needle nor thread could possibly salvage the rags she wore now. Her hair was a mess of copper and ash-smeared strands hanging down with no volume at all, and the skin that was cracking around her eyes and mouth made her look like some old hag, instead of the human form that best represented the magnificence of the greatest fire drake of the era.

Smaug had only donned a hooded cloak to go along with it, as she chased after her star on foot. She would find the thing, no matter what. And now she had nearly reached her first destination in her lonely hunt.

A cliff rose over the little town of mismatched tents and huts and the few actual buildings. A smugglers’ town and port for sky vessels that either needed a halt or were looking for shady business. Smaug wouldn’t have cared for any of it, had her runes not indicated that the star was hiding away on some quick little boat or ship in the sky. What better place to start looking? The only loyalty owed by the people around here was to money, and the only people they cared to protect were themselves.

Smaug took a few deep breaths and hid herself in the cloak, bowing and shaking in her rage, which would just serve to make her look like an old frail woman. Perfect to listen and gather information. She needed to find a place one would most likely go after arriving on a ship.

It was easy to hide in her ashen clothes, with the sun disappearing and the many lamps of the town providing plenty of shadows to lurk in. It was easy to find out that there was a warehouse most crews passed since it was right up on the cliffs, where most of the ships docked, and a man named Wormtongue sold “ _anything you might need_ ”.

Smaug clenched her coat tightly around herself as she made her way up the path to the warehouse mentioned. Her nails turned to claws and tore through the material, but she didn’t care. There were very few people on her way, and none gave her more than a curious look. 

When she reached the warehouse, there was nobody there but her, and nobody inside but the shop’s owner.

Smaug entered the badly lit place, taking just a moment to smell out what sort of things could be found there. Most of it smelled of wood and metal, things one would need for ship maintenance, but there also were trinkets and objects of lesser magic and spells, nothing special. It still made her mouth water in hunger.

“If you’re buying, come in, don’t bother me if you’re just here to beg,” a voice came from the back of the warehouse, where a man was noting down the contents of a box. He looked positively slimy with his lank hair and sickly pale skin, just like Smaug had heard. He was wrapped in a richly-decorated but ill-fitting black coat, which had seen far better days.

Smaug released one puff of smoke from her mouth, her anger slowly cooling down as she finally had something to do. She straightened up to stand as proud and tall as her body could, towering over the bad posture of the man before her. His eyes widened a little as he took her in, but he still did not look as afraid as he well should.

“I’m not buying,” Smaug said, her voice sweet but crackling with the fire still burning in her throat.

“What-” the man hissed, sensing the malice coming from the dragon, but still not knowing what to expect. “Unless you have something good to sell, leave! I have no time to bother with people who just linger around here. You have some business to discuss with me, or you can go away!”

He sneered as Smaug moved over to a table of charms. The magic was weak, merely a spell to help determine altitude, but it would be fine. She grabbed a handful of them and opened her mouth wider than would be comfortable if she were a mortal, swallowing up the charms and tearing them apart between her sharp teeth.

Wormtongue paled visibly as he saw her gobbling up all of the charms, releasing red sparks of fire and small green ones where some of the magic tried to escape from their bad binding to the wood.

“What are you doing,” he whispered, as Smaug worked her way through all of the charms to suck out the little magic they had.

She hissed, feeling tension fall from her shoulders.

“I have a trade to offer, Wormtongue,” she said sweetly.

“I-it’s _Honeytongue_ , m-ma’am-“

“Quiet, you miserable little man, or I shall turn your tongue to proper honey and watch you choke on it,” she said in a soft and pleasant tone, barely loud enough for him to hear.

The man trembled as Smaug’s fingers traced delicately over another set of charms, metal this time, with magic that would go off and burn one’s fingers without any real spell in it. Shoddy work, but still a fine morsel. She heard him squeak fearfully as her teeth made short work of that material as well, not minding the brief fire going off in her mouth. It burned so much cooler than her own anyway.

The cracks on her face were smoothing out now, as Smaug was calming herself.

“I am looking for something that is mine,” Smaug said as she turned to him. Shards of metal fell out of her mouth as she spit out all she didn’t need to eat for the magic.

Wormtongue didn’t speak as he stared at them.

“A… girl… Mine you see, she ran away and the poor thing can’t find her way back.”

She moved along the tables with the displayed wares, running one of her hands over them. She could _feel_ the control over her appearance return as she was finally able to do something besides raging in her own head. She began to pick up pretty objects of no magical value, and dropped them into her pockets. Wormtongue stuttered at this, but seemed to be so shocked by her audacity that he could not speak.

“Very tall, very pretty. Long pointy ears; I know there aren’t many with this trait in Erebor. Long hair, the colour of autumn leaves, proud bearing. I’m _sure_ you’d remember such a girl if you saw her.”

Her voice was low and seductive, promise rather than threat layered in her tones. Wormtongue relaxed just a little bit, and for the briefest moment he was lost in memory, enough for Smaug to see that he had indeed seen somebody fitting the description of the star.

Now all that was left was to make sure he told her.

“I see you know of whom I speak of. Why don’t you tell me when that was?”

Wormtongue edged away from her until his back hit one of the wooden pillars of his house. Smaug was towering over the man who shrunk under her gaze, and she smiled sweetly.

“It… weeks… many weeks,” he offered, nervously licking his thin lips.

“Was it on a ship?” Smaug asked him. “Or did you see her when you were down in the markets?”

“Oh, a ship, yes,” he nodded eagerly.

“Good… Now, do you remember which ship it was? Of course you do, you’re a businessman. Tell me, what was its name?”

Smaug’s hand, now restored to its elegant beauty moved close to the man’s face, hovering close.

Wormtongue’s eyes narrowed a little and he put on a pleasant expression of his own, or at least as pleasant as such a face as his could make itself.

“And what would I get for this, ma’am? My memory isn’t that perfect, surely there is something you have to help me recall?”

Smaug’s kind expression twisted into a sneer and her hand shot forward to grab Wormtongue’s neck, easily lifting him off his feet. She was a dragon, he was no more than a fly in her hands.

“ _What do I have for you? Think wisely, worm, before you anger me! There is nothing I can not or will not do to you and your little house. Speak now, and you will be richly rewarded!_ ”

Wormtongue let out a frightened squeak as Smaug’s nails dug into his skin hard. She dropped him and he slumped to the ground, eyes wide in his panic. So often people got like this, sensing the threat of the dragon even when Smaug was wearing a harmless looking shape.

“Th-the Wind Dancer,” he stammered out, resolve and greed broken near comically easily. “The ship she was on was the Wind Dancer, they’re smuggling, they’re hunting lightning.”

Smaug hummed and slid back to the wares displayed. Feasting on magic, no matter how weak, was always a good way to avoid resting and she still felt the presence of small trinkets.

“Where will this ship be now?” she asked, not looking back to know that the man was still cowering before her.

“I d-don’t know, they have no real schedule… They just go where- where they want to.”

That would make things a little bit more complicated, but nothing could not be chased down. Especially if they didn’t know what was coming.

“Who is the captain?”

Wormtongue was slowly rising to his feet again, voice and legs shaking but looking a little more hopeful.

“Captain Dwalin of the line of Durin. He’s the cousin of the King I think.”

That did take Smaug by surprise for a moment. The family of that wretched vermin Thorin Oakenshield had gotten their dirty little hands on her star? What would they do with it? Did they _know_?

Surely they wouldn’t… But it _would_ be nice to get to play with one who possibly was very close to Thorin while she returned what was hers.

As she was thinking of what she could do once she had secured her star, Wormtongue was slowly gathering his courage.

“I have told you what you wanted to know,” he said. “So… my reward. What will it be? What can you give me?”

Smaug straightened her back, not gracing him with a single look. Her ruined innkeeper dress crumbled into ash, and in its place was the gorgeous red dress that made her look every inch the queen she was. Her hair curled and shone and gathered itself into an artful mane with gold woven into the strands. There was no reason to hide her magnificence anymore. 

“My reward for you? My reward for you is a headstart.”

Her hands darted towards the charms all around her, tearing through their boxes to feed on them, and she heard hasty footsteps running away from her, running out.

Smaug didn’t care whether the slimy man would call for help or reinforcements, but she did not care to stay longer than necessary. She gobbled up what she could get her hands on, sucking out the magic, noting how most of it wouldn’t have been of any use either way. Once nothing was left only a few breaths were enough to set a fire hot enough to spread freely. Perhaps the mortals would manage to salvage the building, if they were quick, perhaps they’d have to rebuild everything.

She did not stay to find out, and strode away with purpose in her golden-heeled steps. Smaug found herself a horse to take her for the first part of her journey and left the town of thieves behind her before the flames were even noticed by the people at the foot of the cliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this verse Bifur is a trans man, and his wife Lari is a trans woman. We borrowed them from Thorinsmut, and it's not quite clear whether this will actually be mentioned in the actual story line, since it's not something relevant to any of the POV characters so far. 
> 
> The dresses that Ori and Dori are wearing are like these by the way:  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/199706564701435841/  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/199706564701428180/


	37. Shore Leave Part One

Nori stretched in the faint morning sunlight that filtered into his room through the thin curtains. He had woken quite early, given how he usually took a little while to adjust to the lack of ship noises, the buzz of generators and the creaking where open sky and wind brushed past wood on every side of him. Perhaps the good food and mead of last night had helped him sleep tighter. Many others, however, had drunk far more, which meant that most of his crew would be still snoring in their or somebody else’s beds, and probably fighting a hangover.

It felt good to be home again, even if this building only really served as a home during the coldest times in winter, or when the Wind Dancer was out of service for a season. Nori had spent more time on the ship than anywhere else, so this house was only a home because his sisters lived there. They too, had never lived in one place for as long as they had until Dori started working with Balin. It was their presence and their little quirks that would make any place, no matter how rundown or small, a home to Nori.

The smell of Dori’s tea leaves carried through to Nori’s room and he knew she must have woken not so long ago. Tea was always the first thing she took care of, even before making herself presentable for the day. What better way was there to start a morning?

Nori had no reason to stay and laze around for much longer, even though shore leave gave him the freedom to. The first day after arriving in Belegost was always one of leisure, though Nori knew he’d grow restless if he were to do _nothing_.

He washed himself in the basin in his own room (a little luxury he could remember living without for years), and got dressed. Then he brushed his hair out until it was silky smooth, and stared into the little mirror on his wall for a moment. Instead of braiding his hair out of the way, Nori opted for tying it back loosely, to braid it but leave the larger part loose from the queue.

It made him look younger, and softer, though not as much as when he let his hair fall artfully around his face and applied khol around his eyes and a little powder to his cheeks. As he would be seeing his crew that wasn’t an option, though Dori knew how vain her brother sometimes was about his face.

Brushing back the few strands that hadn’t made it into the braid Nori hummed and watched his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his hair just a little bit more to look his very best. There wasn’t much to do when they were in Belegost, as Dori and Balin took care of stocking up supplies or selling what the Wind Dancer had brought. He decided to see what some of his crew were up to, and spend some time with his sisters, but then he would go look for Dwalin. There was always something to do, if one just looked far enough, and he and his Captain hadn’t spent that much time just being alone and talking ever since the two wayward children had crashed into their ship.

Nori stopped fumbling with his hair and got up to join his elder sister in the kitchen.

As expected Dori was bustling around the kitchen, looking after her teapot as to not over-brew it and working on her hair, several pins between her lips as they awaited their use. They were a very light colour, matching the mithril of Dori’s hair, with just a tiny hint of amethyst hidden in the simple engravings. Nori had stolen them for her once when times had been miserable and he had wanted to give his sister something to get excited about. They could barely afford simple copper pins back in the day, and now Dori might decorate herself with gold, yet she had still kept the ones her brother had stolen.

Nori tried not to think of it as he sat down on the edge of one of the roomy kitchen’s chairs.

“Good morning, your Highness,” he joked, and only received a muffled hum in reply, as Dori would not drop the pins to greet on reflex.

She quickly finished her intricate braids and stuck the pins in place while holding her hair up with one hand. Once that was done she turned around.

“Tea?”

“Yes please!”

As usual the tea had finished brewing just in time for Dori to finish her hairdo. She had always loved a routine, especially in the mornings, even if there wasn’t much to do. She poured it into a pretty tea pot, and then fetched matching teacups to serve it in. Nori noted that it was her best set, saved for actual important occasions. He couldn’t help but feel a little flattered about that.

“Will you be having breakfast as well?” she asked, half turning toward one of the pans on the stove. She’d warmed some slices of bread in there, not yet sure what she’d make to go along with it.

Cooking had never been a strong suit for Dori, but she’d always been adamant about providing warm meals and enough to keep her siblings from going hungry, no matter how many mistakes she made with the food. There was no need to bother with that now, but Dori tried to make meals herself every so often anyway. It probably made her feel better to do so.

“Nah, I’ll leave in a bit. I wanted to make sure Bofur hasn’t fallen asleep drunk under a hedge or something...again,” Nori waved her off. He knew that the man would probably be very hung-over, or still asleep, but Bombur would be up and he always had the best breakfast.

Dori pursed her lips.

“But you will be eating?”

“Yes of course! Won’t skip breakfast if I can help it.”

Dori’s soft finger poked at Nori’s shoulder as he took a sip from his tea.

“You are so awfully thin still. Do you eat enough for the work you’re doing? I know Bombur won’t let anyone go hungry, but skipping meals or exhausting yourself won’t do you any good.”

Nori tried not to roll his eyes at that.

“Óin will make sure everyone is healthy, promise.”

“Hard to believe, with how skinny you are.”

In truth Nori had put on weight ever since he’d joined the Wind Dancer. He had always been awfully thin and skinny since he was a child, with never enough food to be had, and then a war and a life half on the run… The Wind Dancer meant regular food and enough work to make his lean stature be due to muscles, and not malnourishment. By now Nori knew that he’d never put on weight the way Dori and Ori did, and would never lose his sharpness and be as beautiful as his sisters… But he was fine with it; fine with being the way he was now.

Not interested in staying in the kitchen for too long, Nori quickly finished his tea and got up. Dori looked up from where she was rummaging around the cupboard for jam.

“I’ll see you later,” he told Dori, resisting the urge to soundly kiss her cheek. He knew that she didn’t like that in the early morning, or when she was eating in fact, and sometimes he still did so just to annoy her.

She made a sound around the slice of bread in her mouth and waved him off.

Outside the sun had risen just so that it was low over the rooftops, casting long shadows and blinding anyone who’d face it even a little. Birds were singing in the trees between the crew’s houses and a dog was dozing lazily in the sunlight, only briefly opening its eyes as Nori passed it.

Dori’s house was one of the oldest of the little area belonging to the Wind Dancer’s crew, and only a short distance away from the main warehouse and office. Dori and Ori had worked with Balin near since the very first day he’d managed his brother’s ship, which naturally meant that they had been the first to move in and were always close to where their work was. Many of the others living here did not work for the ship, having their own workshop or leaving into the core of Belegost to pursue their trade, so their houses were anywhere they had wanted.

Bofur’s family was one of those. Though most worked on the ship sometimes, the larger part of the family had nothing to do with the Wind Dancer. Mirra’s brothers as well as Lari would find work in Belegost and outside the city, wherever a warrior’s skill was needed. The children were raised by everyone who still was there, and only sometimes would Mirra or Bombur both stay on the ground at the same time. 

Through the little garden gate and past Bombur’s rows of vegetables was a large house that looked as if several small ones had been pushed together. Very suitable, for that sizable family, with the many cousins and siblings taking up a small part of it. Most of it was occupied by Bombur and Mirra, with their many children, but Lari had her own private chambers for the time her son and husband were away.

Both she and Bifur were at the porch now, Bifur relaxing in only a simple shirt instead of his usual warm sweaters and vests. Lari was gently shaving his beard, a cup of blue tinged hair-growing foam in her hand. Under her razor’s steady movement Bifur’s beard twitched and grew, reaching the wild mess of salt and pepper that was so distinctive for him.

Nori waved to them with a grin, to which Bifur waved back and Lari simply glanced up, both focused on the task at hand. Nori wasn’t sure if Bifur shaved his beard into growing when he was on the ship, but if he did he strongly preferred his wife’s sure hand to do it. Nori let them be and went straight to the front door and through to the large kitchen.

As expected, the family had gathered there. Bombur was preparing trays of food in his corner, working on many dishes at once. One of their younger children, a four (or maybe three) year old was sitting on one of the counters, with Mirra braiding their curly red hair for them. 

Surprising no one, Bofur was in the kitchen as well, sitting at the table a little away from his brother’s family, face pillowed in his crossed arms, his hat and a big mug of some hot beverage in front of him. Classic Bofur hangover.

Nori glanced towards him and moved towards where some platters of sweet and savoury rolls were still hot from the ovens. Bombur and Mirra both looked up to smile and greet him, and Nori took a handful of the baked goods, throwing one of the sweet ones to the giggling child who caught it and started nibbling on it.

Nori chewed on one filled with potatoes as he sauntered over to Bofur, his steps near soundless but knocking his hip against the table to let the man know he wasn’t alone.

Bofur made a wretched little noise and raised his head just enough to peer at Nori with one eye.

“Just how much did you drink?” Nori asked, munching the rolls leisurely as he waited for Bofur to gather his wits.

“Dunno,” came the reply.

“By the looks of you a nice little city tour is out of the question? Visit some good old sailor pubs and all that?”

Bofur made a face. He was very enthusiastic about getting to have some free time and exploring the areas of whatever place the crew was lodged, but even his usual cheer couldn’t help him when his head ached.

“Have some pity on a man, will ye?”

“If you wish I can ask Óin for some remedy for your headache?”

“Noooo, please, you know how disgusting that stuff is.”

Nori chuckled and placed one of his rolls on Bofur’s hat.

“Tomorrow then?”

Bofur picked it up weakly and pulled it between his crossed arms, probably to nibble on later.

“Aye. You can count me in then.”

He returned to his previous position of resting his face against his arms, so Nori shrugged and left him be. 

Nori said goodbye to Mirra and Bombur before returning the way he had come. Outside Lari was cleaning off her shaving tools as Bifur washed his face over a bucket, and neither noticed Nori leaving.

 

There was no hurry, so Nori moved through the wide streets with ease. Though still part of Belegost, Balin’s little settlement had a very different feeling to it. Instead of the busy colourful energy of the old city, this place felt like home everywhere, and was warm and welcoming. More like a small village than port of a sky ship.

Óin and Glóin’s houses came next on his way, the healer’s barely visible behind his garden with its tall hedges and climbers. The sun reflected of the glass panels on Óin’s greenhouse, containing the rarer plants or saplings they’d brought from Harad and the Orocarni mountains. Loud voices carried over from Glóin’s house, and anyone who didn’t know the man would assume that there was an argument going on. Those who knew the family would be aware of how loud Glóin’s voice grew naturally and when he was in a good mood, as well as Gimli’s tendency to match his father when they were together in a room.

Some baskets of metal wire and food stood at the side of Glóin’s house, apples and bags of dried fruit, along with one that had some bottles of wine. Knowing the family, it would be a fine one, so Nori quickly grabbed a bottle on a whim without stopping and walked onwards.

Finally Balin and Dwalin’s house came into view. It was directly next to the large empty square between the homes and the warehouse, the Wind Dancer’s shadow filling out most of it in the morning sun.

Instead of ringing the small copper bell at the front door Nori let himself in soundlessly. Half of this building was Dwalin’s, there was no reason to be polite and proper as he would have been otherwise, and he did not plan to intruding in Balin’s part of the house anyway.

He heard the brothers’ voices coming from the general direction of the kitchen, so Nori edged towards them along the wall, careful not to be caught. It wasn’t as if he was planning to burgle anyone, but somehow it seemed appropriate to remain hidden until he knew Dwalin was alone.

“- organized a beautiful ball nevertheless. I know you would have liked that one,” Balin’s words were discernable first, he was telling some story it seemed.

Nori pressed his back to the wall by the door, unseen though it was ajar.

“Thorin looked as if he was having fun as well, for the most part. It was Durin’s Day, so you’d think some of the less pleasant fellows of the trade’s guild would be nicer.”

At that Nori could hear Dwalin snort, confirming that it was him there, and not somebody else. As though there was any way Nori could fail to assign that deep rumble of a voice even at a distance.

“See, they tried to catch Thorin off guard and present him with their new plans for _improvment_. I was sure Thorin would throw his cup of wine at them, but he merely managed to excuse himself later and only returned when he was supposed to give some speech or anything of the like. I must say, he was very efficient at avoiding them for the rest of the night.”

The sound of a plate being set down in the sink bridged the brief silence. Nori could hear the sound of pottery against wood, and a few moments later the dull thud of it being put back down. Drink, most likely.

“You should have seen the fireworks this year. Very impressive indeed, and even the Ravens liked them. I suspect because they were informed of their presence in advance this time.”

Dwalin chuckled.

“I can imagine… Well, we had lightning, which never fails to live up to the grandest of fireworks.”

Nori could hear Balin making a small ‘hm’ sound, though he couldn’t tell if he was displeased or merely reacting to what his brother had said.

“You should visit next year. Celebrate with the family, you know, stay in the castle for a while. When everybody is in one spot. Thorin certainly missed your presence this year, not just for your skill to intimidate bothersome nobles.”

There was no reply from Dwalin apart from the sound of a fork against a plate.

Nori pressed his lips into a thin line, his hands curling tighter around the wine bottle. Dwalin loved the Wind Dancer and the sky, he knew that. They didn’t stay on ground often, always going somewhere, always up in the sky unless the ship needed longer maintenance or couldn’t fly far in the conditions. Surely Dwalin would grow bored of Erebor’s capital, and Balin certainly hadn’t seen what his little brother was like as a captain to realize that.

There was a rustling of robes and steps, the clacking of well crafted heels, lighter than Dwalin’s steps (unless Dwalin was trying to sneak).

“I have to go now though, there’s some going through your cargo to do.”

The steps moved away from Nori’s hiding spot, and another of the kitchen’s doors creaked softly and was pulled shut. Dwalin remained where he was, and the only remaining sounds were the occasional clinks of the knife and fork.

Nori waited for several minutes until it wouldn’t seem as if he had been spying for the purpose of making an entrance at Balin’s exit. He hid the bottle of wine behind his back and stepped into the kitchen quietly.

Dwalin was sitting at the table, just finishing his breakfast, and he noticed Nori immediately.

“I can’t remember letting you in,” he accused with a grin.

Nori placed his hand on his chest in mock hurt.

“Does this mean my Captain does not wish to see me? How will I live with this pain?”

Dwalin put his fork down and raised his eyebrows.

“Even if your presence were the worst experience of my life, a first mate who does such a fine job as ye’ do deserves to be humoured every so often.”

Nori’s lips twitched in a pleased smirk at that. It was good to know that he was so irreplaceable, and even better to hear hints of it. Dwalin was the kind of man who _showed_ appreciation, rather than spoke of it, though it still felt very good when he did say something.

He made Dwalin’s life a little easier by bullying him into taking a break when he had to deal with unpleasant things, too many letters or reports to write, some complicated trade agreement with too much side-tracking sentences thrown on him by Balin. He was the one Dwalin could trust fully to take good care of the Wind Dancer when he couldn’t, or when there was too much to do for a single person to handle. He made sure there was fun and distraction when everyone worked too much on serious trade. As long as Nori did his best to make sure Dwalin would not grow tired with the ship, he would not miss his less taxing life at Erebor’s palace. 

To hide how smug he was about this Nori produced the wine bottle from behind his back.

For a moment Dwalin looked delighted as he recognized what the bottle was, then he furrowed his brow.

“Where did ye’ get this? This had better not be Dori’s...”

“I found it. Don’t worry, I’ll return one of these once I can be bothered to find one.”

Dwalin didn’t look too ruffled by the idea of his first mate stealing anything, just rolled his eyes and got up to put his dishes in the sink as well.

Nori leaned against the counter elegantly and watched Dwalin clean up.

“Care to share it despite questionable origins?”

Dwalin threw him a look.

“This early?”

Nori waved him off.”

“Course not. Later. I suggest we go up to the ship and inspect it. We have to do it at some point anyway, and this way we’ll have a reward for ourselves already on hand. Nobody would burst in to demand a share either.”

Not to mention that the ship would be empty, which meant that Nori would be able to walk freely in his little closet, and try on the pretty dresses and jewellery he’d picked up since he’d last had a chance to do so. Maybe Dwalin would play his violin, if he felt comfortable and a little bit tipsy…

Dwalin put away the dishes to dry and smirked at Nori. He’d known Nori for long enough to know that Nori would want to just relax on the ship once the work was done. He was the same in that respect; the Wind Dancer was his home, and he liked to spend time there when the crew was out and about wherever the ship was docked.

“Let’s go then.”

Outside it was warmer than it had been when Nori had left his house, and they walked slowly towards the docking tower of their ship. It was a perfect day now.

“Do you know what you want to do while we’re in Belegost?” Dwalin asked as they approached the tower.

“No…” Nori said after a brief moment of consideration. Apart from just exploring the usual places he liked to visit, there was nothing set.

“We can find some tailor,” Dwalin suggested, looking a little awkward. “Somewhere nobody knows us, and perhaps get you a new gown?”

For a moment Nori perked up at that, then the tips of his ears started to heat up and he looked away.

“Don’t just buy me random dresses,” he muttered. “I’d owe you again.”

“I like getting them for you, it’s the least I can do.”

Dwalin was quiet for a moment.

“You didn’t have a proper dresses tailored for _you_ in a long time.”

That much was true, Nori usually had dresses meant for somebody else, which he then re-sewed to fit him perfectly. The thought of having a gown that was just for him warmed his chest a little, but he would not succumb to the temptation of the offer just now. Usually he was quite pleased when somebody else provided him with things he wanted, but Dwalin wasn’t some mark he could steal from. Dwalin was somebody Nori _liked_ , somebody Nori wanted to repay with an equal kindness each time, and there really wasn’t anything Nori could give that would be of equal worth to his Captain.

“I’ll think about it,” he said instead, and Dwalin smiled. That way he’d know that he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries.

“If ye’ ever wanted to…you know, venture out dressed up all nice and ladylike,” Dwalin started cautiously, “I could _escort_ ye’...somewhere ye’ won’t be recognised, act like a protective suitor, glare at everyone who tries anything on.”

Nori elbowed him in the ribs, hoping that his blush heating his face wasn’t as noticeable as it felt. He _did_ like the idea, very much, but now was not the time.

“I don’t plan on making “potential suitors” jealous, at least not _right_ this moment,” he assured Dwalin with a laugh. “ _We_ are going to settle down with this excellent wine, I will put on my silk and shinies and you will play your violin.”

“Are ye’ ordering me about now?” Dwalin raised an eyebrow.

“It’s shore-leave, I’m entitled to it occasionally,” drawled Nori with a smirk.

They ascended the last stairs in comfortable silence, before they finally stepped back out into the light and onto their ship.


	38. Shore Leave Part Two

It was late morning when Tauriel awoke, though still far too early in the day, as far as stars were concerned. They had stayed up very late, celebrating and drinking, and there was no work to be done now that the Wind Dancer was docking in its homeport. There was nothing that needed her attention, and now her room was no longer shared with noisy snoring crewmembers (they were lovely companions, but the endless rustling and creaking and snuffling quite disturbed one's own sleep).

Sigrid had invited her to sleep in her lodgings, as no rooms had been made for the two unexpected additions for the crew. Tauriel was grateful that she wouldn't have to impose on the hospitality of the other families, and she was pleased that she knew someone who could show her around.

Sigrid lived in one of small houses for the crewmembers that had no other family in Belegost, in a room that was more than large enough for two young women to share. According to Sigrid, it was nearly as large as the room her family’s life centered around in Laketown.

After the party they had changed into nightgowns, but rather than going to sleep, Sigrid had braided Tauriel's hair up close to her head, similar to her own hairstyle. Tauriel was convinced that there was nothing quite like having one's hair brushed and tended to by another.

Another bed had been brought in for Tauriel and placed by the bedroom window, and the two women sat on it for a while as they talked and drank sweet wine from the kitchens. Tauriel got on well with the Wind Dancer's crew, and Sigrid in particular, but something had been different that time. In the dim room illuminated only by moonlight and the lamps from the street, with the distant noise of the festive crew, there was no need to hide away. They giggled and did not speak quietly.

"You're tipsy," Sigrid accused with a giggle.

Tauriel had to concede that point, as her cheeks and the tips of her ears did feel _a little_ warm, and everything seemed far funnier than it would normally be.

Outside somebody started playing on a flute and an instrument Tauriel didn’t recognize, and somehow it was of the utmost importance that she get up and drag Sigrid to the middle of the room to dance. Neither had been up to the wild dances of the night, with the long day they’d already had, so the solution had been to sway and step around each other, very close to support one another. Every so often one of them would trip on the rug, and the other would pull her back up, giggling.

They danced and talked and applauded the distant music when a song changed, and Sigrid had kissed Tauriel a little. It was soft and warm and very pleasant, and when the kiss ended they both decided that they were too tired to go further than that. They’d gone to bed with the music still playing outside, curling up in their warm blankets.

Tauriel had thought a little about it in the lingering haziness that preludes sleep. She hadn’t much thought about kissing people when she was a star, though she had watched many kisses take place over the centuries; even after falling, she had not much considered participating, though mortals did seem to enjoy it. Now though, she thought that it would be enjoyable to kiss quite a few people. On the cheek, mostly, since kissing another's lips carried a different kind of importance. She thought that she might like to kiss Mirra, and Bombur and Bifur, when they were kind to her, and maybe even Lifur and Kíli if their silliness was particularly endearing.

Kissing on the lips, however, was...complicated. Everyone acted so _fussy_ about the romantic implications of lips touching for longer than a chaste peck. Sigrid's kiss, however, had been wonderful, warm and right. Tauriel knew that Sigrid was drawn to other women rather than men, though her kiss with Tauriel had been companionable and sweet, rather than romantic.

She wondered what it would be like to kiss someone with whom she was _in_ love. Though still a young star, without the wisdom of those who had walked Arda before, she had seen many kinds love. _True love_ was the most fascinating to her. People were convinced that true love had to be shown in feats of strength, or daring quests, but after countless lifetimes she was convinced that the truest form of love was something entirely different. It was something quiet, a reliable warmth, a trust in revealing one's vulnerability, and a willingness to support and protect.

Before Tauriel could become confused as to why she already knew what such a thing felt like, she had fallen asleep.

Neither Tauriel nor Sigrid had anything pressing to attend to the morning. Sigrid took the time to write a letter home to her siblings and father, and Tauriel gazed out the window and munched buttered toast, the most complicated breakfast (or very early lunch) either of them could be bothered to make.

Close to midday, around the time Bombur would usually start providing the first few portions of lunch, Tauriel spotted Kíli walking along the street with the prince they’d met yesterday. Fíli was eager to please, polite, and he participated in the revelry as much as the sailors did, without being _too_ aware of his station. He was handsome (though not as striking as a noble of ancient times, as some of the older stars might muse), and had a common-sounding name for Erebor. He wasn't even wearing fine things today; his clothes matched Kíli's in general quality (only put together more neatly, which wasn't hard to achieve).

And yet Tauriel saw hints of a noble bearing in him, a sense of honour and duty in the way he carried himself as soon as he spoke to his family. He _was_ a prince, even if Tauriel was sure that the very ancient stars would scoff and turn their noses if they were down on the ground alongside her. She liked him.

The two young men disappeared out of her sight as they approached the building, and less than a minute later Tauriel heard voices on the stairs below. Then there was a knock, and after they were called in Fíli and Kíli strode into the room. Sigrid briefly looked up from her letter, but returned to her writing as soon as she’d acknowledged the two.

“Good morning,” Fíli said, voice very cheerful though he looked tired. Besides him Kíli was blinking slowly and trying hard to suppress a yawn.

“Good day, you mean,” Tauriel answered, raising her eyebrows. “Unless you’ve actually slept in till now?”

Kíli looked a little sheepish but Fíli inclined his head with a diplomatic smile.

“Expected after last night. Anyone in their right mind will sleep in today, if they’re able. At least we two aren’t hungover. I would bet that _Bofur_ is nursing a very severe headache just about now.”

Sigrid nodded knowingly from her corner and Kíli gave Tauriel a big smile.

“See? We actually wanted to ask whether you want to explore Belegost with us? His Highness offered to show us around.”

At that Fíli knocked his foot against Kíli’s calf in a way he probably considered to be subtle, and Kíli jabbed his elbow into Fíli’s side in a way that truly wouldn’t be missed by anyone.

“Yes, sorry,” Kíli added before things would escalate, his cheeks reddening as he glanced at Tauriel’s amused smile. “ _Fíli_ suggested that we go and just look at things.”

“That would be wonderful!” Tauriel beamed.

Belegost was an older city, grown together into narrow streets and high houses, beautiful to see from above. It would be exciting to see a proper city from within for once.

Sigrid muttered something about having to focus on her letter; she was struggling to write as neatly and carefully as possible, trying to keep her letters clear for her little sister to read easily. Tauriel left her to it, and grabbed her vest to pull over her shirt before following the boys out.

It was a warm late-summer’s day, and the three slowly made their way through the streets.

“Where did you stay last night?” Tauriel asked the boys, curious to know where Kíli had ended up since she’d not seen where he’d gone.

“On the couch of Fíli’s room,” Kíli said, as Fíli reached into his pocket and produced a few slightly squashed bread rolls wrapped in a handkerchief. “It’s a very fancy room.”

“It’s just an attic,” Fíli corrected apologetically as he offered Tauriel one of the baked goods. They were still warm and Tauriel suspected that he’d gotten them from Bombur before they came to look for her.

“Yes, but a very fancy and neat attic. I don’t think my own room has ever been that neat. Or even that _big_ , come to think of it.”

They soon reached the gates of the little town and entered the way leading down to the actual city of Belegost.

“When I am in Belegost, I live in Balin’s house,” Fíli explained to Tauriel. “He is my closest relative here, highest ranking as well. He used to teach me sometimes, when he still lived in Erebor’s palace, and he’s my uncle’s advisor still.”

“He and Dwalin live in a very nice house all by themselves, it’s right next to that big empty square under the dock,” Kíli added. He twisted his torso around to actually look at Tauriel as he walked.

“Both of them were gone by the time we woke up. Pity, I thought Dwalin would be there so we could assist him with the ship, or ask if he’s willing to show us the collection of weapons that doesn’t make it to the Wind Dancer. I think he has armour there too. _Used_ , from the war.”

Fíli looked a little disappointed, and Kíli nodded in understanding. Both looked so crestfallen, Tauriel had to suppress a smile lest they get offended at her amusement. It was a little funny to her how much both seemed to admire and even worship the Captain. She herself had a lot of respect for Dwalin, but though he was a good teacher in certain things she’d never felt the awe in the way Kíli did.

“He’s probably off with Nori, as usual. There’s probably nothing they wouldn’t do together...” Fili commented casually, and he and Tauriel both snorted. Kili looked confused, and Fili and Tauriel shared an exasperated look before dismissing the comment as silly.

They paused very briefly to look back up the slope leading to the crew’s homes, to take in the beautiful sight of the elegant shape of the Wind Dancer hanging in the air above the single spire. There was only sky behind her, and Tauriel appreciated how the ship looked from the distance. Then they reached the houses and streets of Belegost, and entered the labyrinthine city.

Houses stacked up high on every side, shops and living quarters and inns were everywhere. They were solid and well built, painted and decorated in different metals or plants, mismatched and of widely different sizes. In some parts it looked as if buildings were pushing and twisting to compete for space, in others it seemed as if somebody had stacked different houses together like building blocks. Sometimes what looked like a house was merely a wall, and Tauriel caught glimpses of courtyards and lush gardens and open spaces through windows or doors as they walked by.

At first it seemed as if they were passing homes, but soon shops and cafes and the occasional street vendor started to take over the makeup of the streets the deeper they moved into Beleogst. Hundreds of strange smells greeted Tauriel, spices and the scent of roasted meat and sweet pastries as well as strangely familiar perfumes she couldn’t place for the life of her.

There were alleys and stairs leading elsewhere as they neared the centre, and sometimes there were pathways on top of the buildings, as well as small bridges to cross from place to place quicker than on the streets. Kíli even pointed out how tiny houses sometimes appeared to be built upon the slanted roofs here and there, held in place by stilts.

How anyone might orient themselves in this place was beyond Tauriel, but Fíli led them with surety, not once pausing to think about where they were supposed to go.

When they reached an area that was mainly composed of shops, most of the vendors had a part of their work displayed in front of their shops, with big open doors allowing glimpses at more interesting wares. All of it was gorgeous to Tauriel, even through a lot was just common household wares, for the kitchen or for crafting. Some of it was magic though, or exquisite trinkets and beautiful decoration.

Up until that point Tauriel had not given much thought to anything but the stories Fíli and Kíli were exchanging and talking to them, but noticing the pretty objects on display jolted her memory.

“Kíli,” she whispered in a moment when she was sure Fíli would neither hear nor see them whispering. It would be rude to exclude him, but this wasn’t for him to hear unless Kíli wished to share.

“Hm?”

Kíli glanced at her, at least catching on that she wished to have a private question. He seemed very relaxed and much more at ease than he had been the past few days with the tree market and burning his hand, it pained Tauriel to remind him of it.

“Do you want me to help find a gift for Ned? Now that we are in Belegost there is a lot to see and explore.”

Kíli looked a little surprised at that suggestion, as if he’d completely forgotten the entire matter.

“Ah… na I don’t think I’ll find something for him here,” he waved off. “I might have better luck if I stop looking so much, if I see something I’ll know. And I mean...what's the hurry? Why should I be so focused on going back when there's so much to see here?"

Kíli shrugged but in that moment Fíli called his name to show him something he’d seen, and he was distracted again.

Tauriel was surprised at his reaction, and something tight in her chest dissolved, making it easier to breathe.

It was just gladness to see her friend care less about his worries, be happier, nothing more. _More_ would not be her place to feel.

Tauriel smiled at the jokes the boys were telling and followed them on.

They reached a street that seemed to be exclusively for metalwork of all sorts, the dim clang of hammer on anvil heard close by from deeper in the stores. Though the boys tried to include Tauriel, their talk and attention quickly shifted to the wares displayed, both cooing over the techniques and quality in ways Tauriel could add nothing to. It didn’t matter, it was very entertaining to see them this excited about it.

Kíli mentioned his apprenticeship back at home, which got Fíli even more excited, revealing that he himself was a goldsmith by craft.

“I didn’t know princes have _crafts_ ” Kíli said, in awe of the newly revealed skill.

“What else should we do? Sit around and not work on anything at all?”

Fíli seemed a little baffled by the idea of not having a craft of any sort and Kíli gestured at him in confusion.

“But you’re noble…”

“But crafts are _important_. Even the king has one!”

They started discussing what they knew of their preferred metals and what they’d wish to make.

“I sometimes made jewellery pieces with spells bound to them,” Fíli explained after a while. “Usually it’s runes for protection, and I’m not too keen on binding real magic into my gold work, but I was trained and taught in the theory of it.”

Kíli’s eyes widened.

“Real magic? Are you a magician then?”

Fíli laughed.

“Not really, I’m certainly not a _wizard_ or anything. But I learned spell casting, and there’s magic that comes natural to my family. My great-aunt does magic though, and she made sure I learn as much as I could when I was little. She’s Balin and Dwalin’s mother, by the way, Lady Lawara. Very good at using magic so quietly you don’t know anything’s going on.”

The conversation shifted again, but Tauriel’s mind was still focused on one piece of the conversation.

Magic jewellery?

Her hand reached up to touch the necklace that had knocked her out of the night sky, what seemed like an eternity ago. It was hidden by her clothes, always out of the way and out of Tauriel’s mind as well. It was such a strange thing, plain and with no trace of magic there, and yet it _had_ somehow knocked a star down. Some other magic must have carried it at least, so perhaps somebody who knew their way around metal and magic might guess at what it was.

She considered asking Fíli about it.

Tauriel’s hand dropped again as she watched Kíli laugh at something.

If it hadn’t been for the necklace she wouldn’t have met any of her new friends in Arda... she wouldn’t have ever gotten to meet Kíli. The thought of not knowing him made the star’s heart ache keenly, and she was convinced that she would rather fall out of the sky a dozen times over than never get to see him again.

The strange glum mood that was threatening to take hold of Tauriel would ruin the day out in Belegost, so she breathed deeply and smiled, and firmly pushed the thoughts away.

*

The day spent wandering through an interesting city left Tauriel pleasantly exhausted. Just walking was different from the work done on the Wind Dancer, and she’d enjoyed doing so with Kíli and Fíli. They had bought food from a nearby street vendor and had sat eating it next to a fountain with carved statues in the water. When it was time to return, Fíli bought a large bag of jam-cookies to snack on as they walked back.

The sun was already low in the sky, this late in the year, but it was still very warm and pleasant. In the Wind Dancer’s little town more people were out of their houses now, enjoying the weather and having a good time in their own gardens.

Nori’s elder sister bustled past them, a small grocery basket in her hands. Dori was a very elegant lady, Tauriel thought, with an air of royal bearing that reminded her a little of some of the older stars, and certainly more than the Wind Dancer’s actual royalty ever displayed. The way she moved suggested elegance and strength, much like her brother, through Nori’s movements were different.

Dori stopped as she saw the three, greeting them and receiving a polite reply.

“I have not seen you around all day, your highness,” Dori said to Fíli after that was done. Tauriel noted how Fíli’s attitude had shifted a little, noticeably formal when addressing Dori, and possibly more how he was raised to be.

“I was showing Kíli and Tauriel Belegost,” Fíli told her, at which Dori smiled with a nod.

“Oh, I can imagine it’s a wonderful sight for newcomers.”

She shifted to lean her small basket against her hip and briefly looked the three over.

“I can’t imagine you had a very big lunch now? Would you care to join us for tea?”

Neither of the three had any other plans, and even so they could not refuse without coming off as rude.

They followed her to the house she shared with her siblings, close to the Wind Dancer’s square and very pretty to behold from outside. It had a garden, in which it seemed as if somebody had planted several bushes to carry pretty flowers but wasn’t really trying to cut and tend them into shape.

Inside, rooms were very neat, with soft and elegant furniture and needlepoint and pillows. In one corner, books and papers were scattered over a desk, but otherwise things were very orderly.

Ori was in the kitchen already, cutting fruit cake. She perked up as Dori announced and led in their guests, beaming at Fíli and quickly looking away.

Fíli offered Dori the bag of cookies he’d bought, and they were set out on a pretty plate, along with other small foods. Everyone took a seat at the kitchen table, Kíli and Tauriel a little awkwardly, though Fíli seemed to be at ease, if quieter than he’d been earlier. Dori brewed tea and served it in a beautiful set of cups, offering everyone each of the plates before sitting down herself.

It was nice, Tauriel supposed, once she’d relaxed a little. Dori didn’t show any sign of judging them for how they ate or drank. Instead she seemed to be very pleased with having three more people over for conversation, talking to each in turn and switching the subject to recipes or tea if there was the slightest chance of an awkward silence.

Fíli and Ori sat next to each other around a corner of the table, and Tauriel was certain that they were bumping their feet and legs together. They both acted as if nothing was happening, only ever paying attention to each other in conversation. Ori nibbled on the jam-cookies and rarely initiated conversation, but Tauriel could plainly see the furtive glances and smiles when they were confident that Dori wouldn't notice. Tauriel could also see that Dori _had_ noticed, though the eldest Rivers sister did not look as if she minded at all. She looked more amused at their behaviour than anything.

Sometime into their second serving of tea the front door could be heard opening, and moments later Nori strutted into the room, grinning widely at his siblings and briefly narrowing his eyes at Fíli next to Ori, without dropping his smile.

“Good evening dear sister,” he said with a slight bow to Dori, to which she only replied with a “Where have you been this long?”

Nori sat down and snatched the exact cookie Kíli had been reaching for.

“Went to help the Captain, I did. Stayed to deal with the Wind Dancer and then we just shared some wine and there was nothing else to do, was there?”

Dori paused in pouring a new cup of tea for Nori and squinted at him.

Nori waved her off.

“We didn’t even finish one bottle between the two of us.”

Dori seemed pacified by that, proceeding to place the cup in front of Nori and sitting back down, though Tauriel could still hear “better not have been my wine” muttered under Dori’s breath.

Things were a little livelier now that the first mate was here. He spoke as ever he did, even if Tauriel thought he put on more of an edge in his behaviour. Because of Fíli, she wagered, as Nori was looking between and his sister and the prince more often than not as he spoke. Ori talked more now that her wandering brother was finally hers to talk to, and they conversed enthusiastically about what had happened since he'd been away, and his adventures aboard the ship.

Surprisingly, Dori’s voice took on a bit of an edge as well, though she wasn’t unfriendly. It was as if her brother’s presence revealed some of her potential for a sharp tongue and nonchalant wit . Unlike her brother, who hid his wit and quietness behind his sneers, Dori seemed to do the opposite, preferring to be chillingly polite and pleasant to hide her bite.

Kíli and Fíli both seemed to be pouting a little each time Nori spoke to either of them, or took away Ori’s attention for too long. It was nearly hilarious how similar their views on the Wind Dancer’s two leaders were: the barely hidden admiration of Dwalin, and the near identical frowns that appeared when Nori teased them (though Fíli tried to not let it show, and was doing considerably better than Kili). This, of course, led to even more teasing, and an eventual cuff to Nori’s head from Dori.

Tauriel hid her smile at the group behind her teacup, and enjoyed watching until early evening.

 

*

 

The crew of the Wind Dancer remained in Belegost for a week.

Tauriel stayed in Sigrid’s little room for the nights, and by Kíli's side during the day as they visited the crew's families and accompanied Fíli around the city. They were joined by Sigrid and Lifur most of the time as well, along with Ori and Gimli. The lad tagged along despite being teased for his age, and showed a great deal of maturity even compared to some of the others.

Sometimes Fíli and Ori would disappear for a time, and Tauriel would occasionally spy them sitting in the shade of a tree and talking, leaning against one another. Nobody minded that, and nobody confronted them about it. As the two could only usually communicate through letters, and Fíli was only able to visit few times a year, nobody denied them their cherished privacy.

Dori would invite Tauriel and Sigrid over for tea sometimes, enjoying the young women’s company.

Fíli and Kíli had become fast friends, with no lingering resentment from their first impressions. Tauriel was pleased to discover that Fíli was proficient with knives as well, so they went on to spar and compare techniques.

“Nori was the one who taught me, when I was much younger,” Fíli explained. “It was mostly tricks and less “honest” methods of using knives. I’m quite sure he did it to annoy someone, or everyone in my family to be honest…”

Fíli demonstrated a flip of both of his knives before sheathing them again. Then he sighed.

“I doubt I’ll ever be as good as Nori with knives, not without a life of crime the way he had. He loves to remind me about his superior skill too. It’s fine though, I’m better with dual sword blades than Nori could ever hope to be.”

Tauriel snorted, and attempted to copy the move Fíli had just shown. After a few fumbled attempts, Fíli laughed, not unkindly, and proceeded to show her how to do it properly.

Nobody questioned that Kíli and Tauriel would remain on the Wind Dancer as part of the crew; the suggestion of them leaving to be on their own way in the nearest port was long forgotten. Dwalin asked Tauriel at one point, whether she wanted to stay, when Kíli wasn’t around. She just replied that she would love to, if Kíli wasn’t opposed to it, and Dwalin nodded and didn’t mention it again.

When the day of the departure from Belegost approached, a group gathered to go find a nice inn together, though quite a few decided to stay behind to spend their time with their family. Dwalin didn’t join either, muttering something about having work to do and that he was giving everyone some time off from the Captain’s presence for once. Nori had no such concerns, and he and Bofur became the unspoken leaders of the small expedition.

Though Tauriel didn’t feel like drinking she joined as well, walking along with Kíli and Fíli. It was a very cheerful atmosphere, and somebody had brought along a bottle of a very sharp-tasting booze, which was handed around as they moved towards the city.

Bofur found a suitable establishment very soon, a small tavern already filled with people but with enough room to accommodate the crew just fine.

“We’ll be here for one or two rounds!” Bofur announced to the barmaid before the crew went to find seats and order their first drink.

Tauriel was pleased to see that she wasn’t the only one ordering sweet berry juice rather than something to get drunk on, and soon she found herself squeezed between Kíli and Bofur on a bench, everyone chatting and toasting around her. The patrons who had already been there chatted and joked with the crew, occasionally raising their tankards to the sailors and the king. There was singing and loud laughter and the amiable mood enjoyable, though it was certainly too loud for a proper conversation. Food was ordered and everyone drank and was merry.

All too soon Tauriel found herself being pulled up from her seat as everyone made their way outside, waving and tipping generously.

“Why are we leaving?” Tauriel asked curiously, and Lifur shrugged with a grin.

“On to the next tavern! Can’t spend all our money in just _one_ place, can we now?”

Tauriel thought that they most certainly _could_ , but the evening was pleasantly cool and everyone was in a good mood, so there was no reason to protest.

Some of the crew were a little tipsy already but it was fine that way.

The next place Bofur ushered everyone towards was a larger building, ivy crawling up its walls up to balconies where a few people were sitting and drinking or singing and toasting to everyone who passed by on the street. It was a much bigger place, an inn with rooms for rent, by the looks of it.

Inside it was still quite busy. The crew were greeted heartily by the regulars of the tavern and fellow sailors, Nori most of all. The group sat down on a few stools by the bar and the tables closest to it, quickly ordering more drinks to enjoy the night. It was much like in the previous bar, loud and very close with everyone around, only a bit less crammed.

Bofur once again started to sing, the entire tavern following suit. As neither knew the words, Kíli and Tauriel merely joined in by hitting the table with their palms to the beat of the tune. 

Tauriel didn’t know how many rounds everyone had managed so far, when Nori rose up on his stool, standing tall over the rest and raised his drink.

“The next round’s on me, generously provided by the Wind Dancer!” he called out. “That is, on me for anyone who finishes their drink within the next five minutes!”

A cheer went through the entire tavern and Tauriel saw several people try to finish their drinks as quickly as possible all around them. Nori was just about to sit down with a pleased grin as a voice interrupted the general cheer.

“Oh, provided by the Wind Dancer indeed. Provided by all those you _stole from_ , you mean?”

Several heads turned to find the source of that comment, and Nori squinted in the direction as well. As Tauriel leaned forward to see, she saw a man sitting at one of the tables a little further away and not in clear view of the Wind Dancer’s crew. He was surrounded by several other people, and judging by their clothes they must have been sky sailors as well. It took her a moment to recognize that he was one of the captains she’d briefly seen in Ered Luin. 

It was Bereg, a rather rude man with a gorgeous and abundantly decorated ship and ostentatious clothing, someone the Wind Dancer’s crew greatly disliked. A smuggler noble and very full of himself, also the man whose cargo had been “removed” from his possession by the Wind Dancer’s crew.

Nori’s eyes narrowed as his smile gained sharpness. 

“What a thing to say! Ah, I’d say it’s only stealing if you take from _honorable_ law abiding citizens. What’s it to you anyway?”

Bereg sneered, unable to say anything about that without confirming that it was his ship, the Galador, that had been robbed from right under his nose too, and that he had indeed been in possession of things that would earn him a hefty fine and even more loss than he’d already endured. 

“To be expected from a captain like yours,” he said. 

It was growing very quiet in the tavern now, uncomfortable muttering and laughter here and there, but most people were now glancing between Nori and Bereg, waiting for what they’d say next.

The captain turned to his crew, his whisky glass raised to his lips. 

“Scavengers the lot of them. Scavenging lightning from the sky and scavenging other ships on a flimsy excuse.” He took a sip and screwed his face into a smile. “You’d think they’d have the money to actually make something out of themselves, given their captain’s position… or has the King finally realized that a brute dog can’t actually carry out orders?”

Nori went very still, and the entire crew around Tauriel tensed up, glaring quietly. 

“Everyone knows there was no use for him after the war… seeing him at court, so out of place, the second son of one of the finer families, it’s a shame really, to see that his brother inherited all of the tact and brains and left none at all for him. Sending him off to trail around in the sky on that wreck of his was really the merciful thing to do, rather than have him struggle at politics. Can you _imagine_ him trying _that_?”

Laughter went through his crew and worried whispers rose in the entire tavern like a buzz of bees. Ship crews clashed, that was normal, but Tauriel had the feeling that such insults were rare, not to mention that Bereg was insulting one of the King’s cousins. None of the patrons were sure how to react to this. The uncomfortable laughter had died down as well, and even the tavern’s workers had stopped to look on uneasily. The only conversations came from patrons deliberately trying not to listen.

By now Nori’s expression could not be described as a smile by any stretch anymore. He was angry now, cold and dangerous. The crew around her quietly seethed as well, barely keeping themselves from rising or speaking up. None would dare, not before their first mate gave an order. 

Bereg wasn’t even looking at them anymore, speaking to his crew who was sneering at the Wind Dancer’s. He seemed very confident in being able to speak his mind now, his speech clear and easy to hear in the entire room, so Tauriel’s brief assumption about him being very drunk was dismissed.

The Galador’s crew muttered something Tauriel couldn’t quite pick up at the distance and Bereg let out a quiet snort. 

“Indeed, it’s a wonder how Dwalin got anywhere, with that brutish way of his. Can’t even charm a brick, one wonders how one like that would ever make allies, much less how he gets lovers come to his bed. His only charming attribute is likely his money purse, for surely he can’t string enough words together to actually seduce someone _for free_.”

“Nah, that’s what his crew are for!” laughed one of his fellows, and laughter erupted at the table, though nowhere else in the tavern. 

“That’s why it’s a patchwork of fools no other would hire, and pretty faces, it’s clear as day,” Bereg added.

He turned his head to look over at the crew, eyes lingering on Nori and moving over to the rest of the crew. 

“I doubt his crew would refuse Dwalin even in _his_ case. I wonder who his favourite is.” He made an exaggerated show of pondering.

“Maybe it's that sneaky redhead bastard of a pet he has, who knows what he did before he was a sailor, probably used to _work round the docks_ all the same.”

Nobody dared breathe as Bereg glanced meaningfully at Nori again, waiting for him to reply, for the bait to be taken. His eyes narrowed in a nasty smile, he rose a little on his chair, swaying as if he was drunk after all, despite his clear speech. 

“A wreck of a ship, that mindless hound of a captain and a useless first mate with a raggy filthy crew. Fits well, if you think about it.”

He turned away again, taking a long sip of his drink and revelling in his crew’s laughter. 

Nori took one very deep breath, closing his eyes briefly, fingers clenching his drink. Then he turned his head towards the Wind Dancer’s crew slightly, nodding barely enough to be noticed. The crew’s attention was on him, desperate for a cue to do _something_. That nod was enough it seemed. Nori’s eyes met Bifur’s and Bifur nodded curtly, standing up. 

Tauriel watched worriedly as he crossed the room, without saying a word or making a sound. Everyone was watching. Bereg and his crew, however, were not dignifying him or the rest of the Wind Dancer’s people with their attention now that they’d spewed their petty insults. 

Then, in a very quick and efficient movement, Bifur grabbed Bereg’s collar, heaved him up from his chair and spilling whisky everywhere, before throwing him down on the table as if he weighed nothing. Cups scattered to the floor as the table toppled and Bereg squawked in surprise, his crew jumping from their seats in shock. 

In the very brief moment of confusion the Wind Dancer’s crew jumped up and stormed across the room with a battle cry, everyone else around them jumping up and cheering for a fight or trying to get out of the way. Within seconds they were on the Galador’s crew, who had recovered enough to return the thrown punches. 

It was utter chaos. Fists were flying, noses were bloodied, knuckles were scraped, and the overall mood of the tavern patrons, who for some reason stayed to watch, was of raucous cheer at the spectacle. Even Fili and Kili charged into the fray, with fearsome shouts as they shoved and dodged their way through to the Galador sailors. Nori was fighting _nasty_ , dodging away most of the time but also not afraid to throw a punch or apply an elbow to sensitive places, evidently familiar with this sort of situation. Tauriel was caught up in a whirlwind of fists and elbows and furniture shoved higgledy-piggledy about the room, and made up for her lack of drinking by smashing as many bottles over the opponents’ heads as she could get her hands on. 

‘ _Next time I have lessons with Nori,_ ’ she thought as she dodged a mug sailing past her head, ‘ _I’m getting him to teach me how to survive a bar brawl with more than just bottles._ ’

It didn’t take very long for the viciously fighting crews to be kicked out into the street, where the fight went on with equal vigor. 

Out in the open space Tauriel pressed her back to the building’s wall, not keen on having a stray fist land in her face. She watched out over the increasingly dishevelled people fighting, worried that it would end in worse than broken noses. 

The passersby that hadn’t been in the tavern were watching, some of them cheering, others just keen on the show. 

As Tauriel raised her head to look around for more of a potential threat her eyes fell on a woman hurrying towards them with her hands clenched on her skirts. 

It was Dori.

Tauriel watched as she approached, none of the Wind Dancer’s crew aware of her yet. Some members of both crews started to stagger away from the fight, too tired or injured to continue, and right in the middle of the mess Nori and Bereg had clashed. They staggered apart briefly, Nori’s chin bloodied from where his lip had split, hair escaping from his braid. He was faring better than Bereg, who was completely disheveled and seemed to not have noticed his broken nose and the blood on his face. 

“You, you filthy rat!” he snarled at Nori, eyes wide and vicious. “You scum are acting way above your position in the gutters.”

Bereg’s hand reached into his pocket, pulling out something metal that flashed briefly in the light, but the next second Dori reached them, and her hands curled into Bereg’s shoulders like vicious claws. 

“You inbred Orc scrotum!” she snarled, voice high in a rage one wouldn’t expect in such a civilized lady as her. “You dare lay hand on my brother, _you disgrace of a goblin bastard?_ ”

As if she was picking up a pillow, Dori lifted Bereg off the ground, his futile attempt to pry her hands off of his shoulders not yielding any results. Then she threw him, forcefully and full of rage, sending him flying several feet and into one of his crewmembers. Both collapsed to the ground in a heap.

“You attack MY crew?”

The Wind Dancer’s crew stilled, edging away nervously as Dori grabbed the next member of the opposing crew, to throw her to the side without any effort once more. 

“I’ll SHOW you!”

It only took a few more of the Galador’s crew to be thrown before they stopped trying to attack Dori, or any of the others. They quickly picked up Bereg, and supporting each other they ran away, followed by the jeers of the audience. 

Dori took a deep breath and huffed. She took a few moments to compose herself before she started fixing her hair, the only thing that had changed about her appearance, given the very brief and efficient fight. Around her the Wind Dancer’s crew helped each other stand up and started checking each other over for injuries. 

Nori clutches his side briefly, screwing his eyes shut as he braced against the pain. Then he limped over to where Dori had dropped her purse in the scuffle, picked it up and walked over to his sister. 

“Thank you very much,” she said as Nori handed it to her, voice back to the polite tone Tauriel knew her for. 

After Dori composed herself she pulled a face and threw a look at the crew. 

“Back home for you, I think,” she said in a displeased tone. 

None protested as they quickly followed her to walk back through the streets. They were a strange sight, a group of sailors, dishevelled and bloodied, following a very prim lady with her nose held high. 

Tauriel quickly joined Kíli and Fíli, who were leaning against each other. For a moment she was worried that they needed the support, but then she realized that they were just still high of the rush. They didn’t seem too badly roughed up, hair dishevelled and Kíli’s cheek swelling while Fíli rubbed his shoulder where he’d fallen into something. They both were grinning though. 

“That was _exciting_ ,” Kíli said, eyes shining, and Fíli nodded so hard that his braids bounced. 

Tauriel could only roll her eyes at them, even as she brushed Kíli’s hair out of his eyes and stroked his bruised cheek tenderly for a moment

Up in front Nori seemed to be explaining to Dori what had happened, and while she still looked miffed about having to fight, she didn’t seem angry at her brother. From her purse she pulled out a beautifully embroidered handkerchief, which she handed to Nori to wipe his bloodied lip.

It wasn’t very far into the night when they finally returned home, given that their pub crawl had been cut short. Dori briefly tried to drag Nori home to patch him up properly, before she sighed and led them to the Captain’s house first.

Dwalin, understandably, was _very_ displeased once he saw the state of his crew. 

“I leave you alone for _one night_ ,” he said, glowering at everyone gathered on his doorstep, arms crossed over his chest. 

“A fight, and for what? I’d expect better of you.”

Dwalin seemed genuinely disappointed in his crew, and angry as well. 

“Don’t you know how that reflects on all of us? On the ship? What was it even about, then?”

He glared expectantly at Nori, who had been in charge after all, even if he’d fought the least and didn’t technically throw the first punch. Nori didn’t move his eyes from a spot on the wall the entire time, lip still bloodied but standing proud and defiantly. 

“We were defending yer’ honour, Captain,” Bofur admitted stubbornly. 

“Bereg,” sneered Nori, “that glittery warg-turd was saying… awful things about you, we wouldn’t stand for it.”

Dwalin’s eyes softened in understanding. He almost looked _touched_ though his fingers clenched at his biceps.

He looked over the crew, especially at those most obviously hurt. 

“Very well,” he sighed. “This was absolutely stupid, though...I appreciate the gesture. But _you_ will be the ones to explain to Óin why he has to patch up more than half my crew now, I won’t help you there.”

A fearful mutter went through the crew, though they also nodded defeatedly and Bofur let out a ‘that’s fair’. 

“Yer’ damn right it is,” Dwalin muttered as the crew shuffled back away from his house, and with that he shut the door on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday is the one year anniversary of this fic, that originally was supposed to be wrapped up at 29 chapters.  
> I'm very tired but also very excited right now.


	39. Water Mirrors and Windswept Hair

Dís sat at the pond, huddled in a large quilted shawl, a small lamp at her side to warm her hands every so often. Now that autumn was upon them it was growing increasingly cold in the forest, even during the day, and now was a particularly chilly morning. She’d taken the shawl and the lamp to light the way during dawn, though now it served as a protection for her fingers. She’d also taken dried little biscuits, but those were forgotten in her work.

The wizard was working on something, but she didn’t know what. It seemed to involve figuring out what had poisoned some of his plants at the outskirts of the woods. Either way, he’d been too distracted to even remember his guest’s presence, so Dís had taken what she needed and went away to practice the spell for _seeing that which is far away_..

One of her hands touched the surface of the icy water, stroking it to a smooth picture over and over, chilled lips murmuring. She would never excel at this particular spell, not without further instructions, better books, a talk with somebody who knew how to use it and could give her advice. It exhausted her so much to focus on it; she knew she wasn’t getting much else done. At least the wizard didn’t seem to mind or even notice.

Sometimes when she tried the spell she managed to focus on her brother, see that he was well and not in any kind of war attire at least. It meant there was no war happening far off Radagast’s realm, at least not yet. Otherwise Thorin would not smile as he did, even if it was only occasionally. It was hard to see details of what he was doing at all times, but Dís once managed to catch glimpses of him poring over maps and discussing the matter of armies. At least he wasn’t unprepared for the worst, then.

Her biggest success that particular morning had been to see her husband, though. Far off in another world Philip was _alive_. It only showed what was happening to him at that particular instance, but it meant that he was truly well, that he was doing fine. She’d watch him sit at a table, writing something in a small book, smiling softly. He’d not looked too much different from what Dís remembered, though it was hard to tell with the picture rippling as if it was being reflected in water instead of being shown through magic. He looked older maybe, he was dressed similarly to how he’d been when they first met, and he wore his hair shorter…

She had not heard his voice in eighteen years now, but as she recongised the movements of his lips she realised he was singing. She remembered the song in his voice as crisp and clean as if he was standing right beside her, singing…

‘ _Lovely Lady, fly so free_  
_O’er the world above the trees..._ ’

" _See the world and have your fun_ " Dís' voice joined in, quiet so as not to ruin the image of one of the last happy memories she’d had with him, before the war hit, before everything seemed bad and she just had her family by her side and another child to look forward to. 

" _But please say you’ll return to me_  
_To me, to me,_  
_Promise you’ll return to me"_

"One day, my love," the princess whispered as Philip's image rippled and faded into the water.

Dís scrubbed at her eyes and let out what was half a laugh of joy, half a sob. She allowed herself a few minutes of rest and some time to warm her hands before composing herself and reaching out to the water again. 

Over the past weeks Dís had been practicing with the images of familiar objects back at Radagast’s house, and it was time to search for something bigger. She was ready, she hoped, and resisted the temptation to curl up under her shawl and take a break, or even better, nap. She needed to _focus_.

Though she needed to practice, Dís didn’t let her inexperience keep her from trying on the important things first. Why try to make the image of a cup left on Radagast’s chair clear and crisps if she knew it would work? Instead she felt as if it was her duty to try and find out as much about things concerning her Kingdom as possible. Trapped she may be, and unable to do anything with the information right now or advise Thorin, she would not shrink down from doing all she could.

She tried to look for her closest relatives, one by one, to make sure even those she had not been able to find out about were fine. She saw them incredibly blurred, and mostly open sky when searching for her cousins, which was a little confusing but possibly meant that they were all travelling by ship currently.

_'Dwalin always had joked about wanting to be a sellsword or a sailor rather than sit around at court when they were younger,'_ Dís recalled.

She looked for the places of battle she remembered, but now it was just blurred images of grass and nothing special she could make out.

She looked for the Orc generals that had still been alive before she was cursed, but it gave her only darkness or shadowy figures in caves.

She even looked for Smaug, but to no avail. All Dís could see was fire, and though it was dulled through the water she could even feel the heat against her palm when she tried to focus in on the Dragon. Though the worm’s magic was low and in need of a slumber, Smaug was powerful enough not to be found by such magic.

It gave Dís a spark of hope of Smaug being easy to defeat if she went on without resting in deep dragon’s sleep. But the mere fact of Smaug being awake worried Dís, as she knew the drake might be on a hunt. Never a good thing for the prey, or anyone who came in-between them.

On a whim Dís tried to seek the Arkenstone. Hopefully her family had located it by now, as the war was over and it was safe to possess such a powerful item once more. There was no enemy facing them on a battlefield, able to tear it away, and its magic would aid them in peacetime as well.

Knowing the stone, it would be as impossible to see it clearly as Smaug. Creatures or objects with such a strong magic of their own would confuse such uncertain spells as Dís’ mirror of water. But at least she might see if it were damaged, if it looked as if it was floating or nestled away somewhere, or anything that would give her a clue.

It would have to return to them eventually, it could not be lost wherever Thorin had sent it _forever_.

Dís hunched up under her shawl and warmed her hands, preparing herself for the feat of seeking yet another thing. The spell might work slightly better now, but she didn’t grow any less tired from each image she conjured up.

With one deep calming breath she placed her hands back against the cold water, clearing her mind of all but the spell and the thought of the Arkenstone. She repeated the same motions she had the entire morning, muttering the spell and smoothing the water into a pitch-black surface, conjuring an image.

When the reflection in the water suddenly flashed a bright white Dís nearly let it slip through her fingers in her surprise. It was so rare for her to see anything clear _this_ soon, and in such vibrance. The mirror usually only showed very muted pictures, nothing like this.

Dís leaned closer, peering at the image and trying to make sense of it. There it was, the necklace that held the Arkenstone when it was taken away to be used in battle or be carried by the ruler of Erebor for ceremonies. It looked… dull… especially in the stark contrast to the pure light surrounding it and filling out all of Dís’ mirror. It looked like glass in its setting of ancient looking metal, the chains of the necklace taunt though they disappeared in the light…

And the light was starting to confuse Dís. What did it mean, that it was so strong, so full of magic that Dís could sense it through the reflection? The Arkenstone itself looked devoid of magic, and it would be until one of Durin’s heirs touched it.

It occurred to Dís that what she felt was so similar to a Dragon’s concealing glamour. It was like what she felt when she’d looked for Smaug, only it felt more steady, strong and pure and not malicious at all. Whoever was using that magic was close enough to the Arkenstone to overshadow it. She had to know who it was.

Dís tried to focus in on the person, tried to see their surroundings, or maybe the shape of their body or anything useful. The light grew stronger, a near corporeal force that in an instant broke the surface with a great _SPLASH._

Dís recoiled and shielded herself against the icy water just in time. She sat down heavily and stared at the pond in front of her, which had returned to normal.

It couldn’t be what she thought this was… but it also made sense…

She _had_ seen a star fall, had seen the flames so similar to the Arkenstone’s magic surround them. Did that mean their family heirloom had knocked a star out of the sky after all? They were safe at least, which soothed the pang of guilt Dís felt about that. For whatever reason, they carried the Arkenstone with them.

Dís brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face with shaking fingers. There was a star out there, with the Arkenstone, and both might be in danger without help, and yet she could do nothing. 

Birds were twittering around her, distracting Dís from the void of helplessness she always fought so hard to avoid. She looked up, a little absent minded as a few blackbirds peered at her from the bushes. It was a good thing that she had animals around her, keeping her at least _some_ kind of company.

Though she longed for the company of ravens, Dís still felt a comfort with the familiarity of the forest birds. She could not speak to them as fluently as she’d be able to communicate with the ravens of Erebor, but it would do.

Dís crumbled some of the biscuits she’d nearly forgotten about and reached out her hand in an offering. The birds flew over to her quickly, eager to eat what the princess had to offer. Dís watched them as she nibbled on one of the biscuits, not hungry but aware that she needed something in her stomach.

After the last of the biscuits was eaten or crumbled up for the birds to eat Dís turned back to the lake one last time.

She would return to the small house for sustenance soon.

But first, she needed to see her children.

Fíli had not been anywhere near Thorin each time Dís tried the spell to see her home, nor had there been any sign of a young lad in Philip’s presence. The latter was understandable, as Dís had only seen a fraction of Philip’s life. But Fíli was the crown prince, and as such he would need to be around Thorin a lot, wouldn’t he? To learn, to assist, to be prepared to be King one day. He had certainly been very close when Dís had visited as a bird.

Given how she had not seen Fíli fully grown yet, and Kíli was a small babe in her memory, it seemed especially hard search for either of them. She didn’t know where to even begin looking, and for somebody who was still barely capable of casting the searching spell it was a great effort to even try.

Dís repeated the motions of the spell, smoothed the water, and watched.

‘ _Show me my son_ ’, she implored the water.

The black turned to blue, blurring and shifting. It was open sky it seemed, clouds and nothing else around. It was very similar to what Dís had seen when trying to search for her cousins.

If Fíli was with Dwalin, that meant that he was safe, Dís mused, already slipping in her focus. It was more than she’d managed to see before.

The image shifted more, brown and black mixing with the blue into what looked like wood, and then, when Dís had nearly dropped her attention, she saw a young man standing at a rail. Long golden hair blowing in the wind, a short beard, eyes the same striking blue most Durins were either born with or received when they used magic in their childhood, and a wild smile, his cheeks dimpling the same way Philip’s had.

Dís gasped, leaning towards r the water. She had not seen Fíli since he was a young lad, and it pained her to see just how great his resemblance to Philip was, how he held himself like Thorin had when he’d been younger.

As soon as she moved the image shifted, still on Fíli but making him barely recognizable. Instead another young man was in focus, seemingly speaking to Fíli. Dís did not recognize him, and looked over him with a confused frown. He was reaching up to stroke his black hair out of his face, unbrushed and shorter than Fíli’s, and Dís could barely make out his features but she saw that his face was softer, younger as well. He seemed to barely even have scruff on his face.

Dís wanted to focus on him, see who that man at Fíli’s side was, but her exhaustion got the best of her and the image disappeared, leaving only her own tired and pale face in the water. Her hair was hanging down around her face, and she looked more tired than confused.

A suspicion spread in her mind, though it seemed like it couldn’t possibly be true. 

‘ _Kíli?_ ’

It seemed like too much of a coincidence, but Dís hoped beyond hope that it were true. If she managed to break free of the Dragon’s curse and return to her family, she would have _all_ of them together.

Sighing, she rose from the forest floor with her lamp, a little unsure on her feet after so long. Her inability to help those she saw would not get to her, she promised herself, as she walked back to the wizard’s house. She simply could not allow it. 

*

“You’ll need shears if you treat your hair like that.”

Kíli snorted but firmly did not finish reaching up to brush the hair away from his face.

Fíli grinned and shook his head at him. He’d been teasing Kíli about his hair every so often, ever since Kíli had asked him why he was braiding part of his own. It seemed a good way to keep it out of the way, but Kíli’s own was still just too short to braid. Besides, he hated combing it, and braiding it would take even more effort than _that._

Perhaps it was a good idea though, not that Kíli would admit it. As the summer was ending, the wind had picked up and messed Kíli’s unruly hair up a lot. On the other hand Fíli’s was braided just enough to flutter in the breeze and make him look quite dashing without tangling too badly. Lucky him.

“It’ll be fine,” Kíli just insisted.

“I can always lend you my spare comb,” Fíli suggested. “And oils to keep it smooth, everyone with long hair uses that. I’d even suggest sneaking in to take Nori’s, I bet you he has the best stuff for hair care on this ship. However, I value my braids too highly to risk losing them to him for such a theft.”

The first mate did have the longest hair on board (besides Tauriel), and he took good care of it. It would be very stupid to try and steal from him though, even if it was funny to think about it.

Fíli leaned against the rail and watched the world pass by below them. He seemed to have no qualms about the ship and the incredible height they were on at all. When Kíli had asked him about it Fíli had just shrugged and explained that he had had travelled on the sky ship when he was much younger. Not to mention that the palace of Erebor was built inside and on top of the mountain, and the main capital was located on and around it. The highest spires the royal family inhabited had taken his fear of height before he could even remember it.

“You should see it,” Fíli had told both Kíli and Tauriel with a fond sigh. “It’s such a beautiful and ancient place. If you can, you really should visit me there one day. I would show you everything.” 

The thought of going to the palace and meeting the royal family made Kíli a little bit dizzy. It just felt so _important_.

Fíli was a good friend, and while Kíli loved being around Sigrid and Lifur as well, Fíli was different. All three were good to talk to, though Sigrid often was a little serious or focused on her work, while Lifur would be overly silly or more eager on fun like his uncle Bofur. Fíli was a mix of the two, up for any kind of fun, but also very serious and aware of ship duties. Kíli could talk to him without feeling daft, and if he were starting to feel too serious Fíli would lighten his mood. The prince became his favourite person on board, apart from Tauriel.

When the Wind Dancer's crew had returned to the ship to set sail the morning after the tavern brawl, moaning about their bruises, Fíli had come along with a small travel bag over his shoulder. He had negotiated with Dwalin that in order to carry out Thorin's secret orders he would be better suited sailing the skies with the Wind Dancer, and Dwalin had agreed.

Kíli had been excited to have someone else near his age on board, and while Tauriel had rolled her eyes she was happy about it nonetheless. Even so, she would not forget their eagerness to join the brawl together, and she figured that they encouraged and fed off each other’s stupidity. 

Everyone had welcomed the prince on board happily, apart from Nori, who had looked quite sullen about it. Eager to prove that he wasn’t a burden or taking advantage of the ship, Fíli performed the duties of one of the crew, working as hard as anyone. He was always there when work was to be done, and didn’t complain about any sort of chore Kíli would have thought was beneath a noble.

"Why are you so eager to help?" Kíli had asked him one day as they secured the sails together. "You're a prince, surely you don't need to?"

"Are you kidding?" Fíli had laughed, "I never get to do anything like this. It's good to feel useful, you know? Up here, I get to be just a sailor, a free man, in a sky full of possibility."

"Also, this isn't a passenger ship," Nori had quipped in as he strode by with arms full of rope. 

They travelled across the land, which was shrouded in the mornings by rising fog. They even came across a small thunderstorm, barely managing to harvest any lightning at all. But it was fun, and Kíli grew to just forget anything apart from the ship life, not worrying about anything, but missing his father a little. And that was just part of adventuring, wasn’t it?

On this particular morning they watched a large lake pass by on the ground below, just enjoying the brisk morning air. Kíli did brush his hair away from his face, but though he saw Fíli smirk from the corner of his eye, he didn’t comment on his life choices.

The moment of quiet enjoyment didn’t last long, as they heard the distinct fake cough of their first mate. Both turned to see Nori looking at them, eyebrow raised.

“You have nothing to do at this moment, do you?” he asked, and Kíli wasn’t sure whether he was accusing them of wasting time or not.

“We just had breakfast,” Fíli answered, and Nori shrugged.

“Well, good. Bombur needs help to prepare a meal for later.”

He handed them two buckets from the kitchen.

“You’re the first ones I saw, so you get to go to the storage and fill these with peeled potatoes.”

Nori seemed to smirk a little as he turned and walked back towards the Captain’s quarters, leaving Fíli and Kíli to groan.

Everyone else had apparently been wise enough to hide or pretend to be busy, knowing that there would be vegetables to chop and clean. Since Mirra and Bombur had left their Borra back in Belegost, the cook needed more help than usual, which meant that he or Nori would sweep in to catch some unlucky sailor unawares every so often to have them prepare part of the meal.

Kíli and Fíli sighed dramatically as they took the buckets and went to find some potatoes.

The storage room was empty, save for several barrels and boxes, neatly sealed or covered by blankets. There were enough lamps to make it a cosy little place to just sit around, though the amount of potatoes Bombur would need made Kíli grumble.

“Is he always picking on us?” he muttered after they’d sat down to grab knives and the first potatoes.

“I don’t think so…” Fíli said, shrugging again. He seemed to be used to it. “Nori’s probably never forgiven me trying to be Ori’s big brother when we were little children, when he wasn’t around to do it himself. And I don’t think he likes nobles on principle. Dwalin’s the exception and I doubt he sees Glóin and Óin as very noble either. He _is_ polite to Balin for giving his entire family work when things were still bad after the war and all that.”

Fíli paused for a moment, squinting.

“Though… yes, maybe he _is_ picking on me.”

They both grumbled and set to peeling the potatoes. Since Fíli had already spoken about his home at length, he asked Kíli to tell him about England. Kíli was astonished to learn that Fíli had never even seen a map of England, and that they probably didn't exist in Arda at all, as nobody ever crossed the border of the mysterious Wall.

“Do you have family there?” Fíli asked.

“Only my father,” Kíli shrugged. “He had a very small family, and nobody else is left in the town I grew up in. It’s always just been him and me.”

Fíli looked as if he wanted to ask more, but just dropped another potato in his bucket. Too polite to ask.

“My mother is from Arda actually,” Kíli confided in him quietly. “She’s a forest witch of sorts, but I know very little about her.”

Fíli looked a little impressed at that, though also a little amused.

“There aren’t many proper forest witches,” he mused. “Perhaps she is a spirit or dryad of some sort? How human does she look?”

Kíli shrugged a little.

“I never met her. I think my father had to leave her for safety? Whatever the case, she was gone when I was still a baby.”

It didn’t sadden him, but he didn’t want Fíli to think that he missed somebody he had never met.

“How about you?” he asked and reached for a particularly large potato, hoping to fill his bucket quicker. “The King has no children of his own, right? That’s why you’re the crown prince?”

Fíli nodded.

“Yes, he practically raised me.”

“Is one of your parents his sibling? You said he was your uncle.”

“Yes… my mother was the youngest grandchild of the last king. Only, she disappeared during the war, after the king and my other uncle died…they told me she fought valiantly though, before she was stolen away. Nobody was even sure what happened to my father, he went missing around the time my mother did, and some of his guards had been found dead. I still remember seeing them only a little before it, before they sent me away to safety…”

Fíli’s hands stilled, and he seemed quite upset about it, though he was masking his pain behind a face of stony calm. Kíli couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose both his parents to uncertainty, while also still being able to remember them, to put a face on the person gone…

“How did you meet Ori then?” he asked, a little obvious and awkward for a change of topic perhaps, but it worked as Fíli’s lips curled into a smile and his cheeks flushed a little bit.

“When she was very little, Balin hired Dori to work with him in trade, and each time we visited or they came to the palace I had somebody to play with. I tried to protect her and be like her big brother, since she was such a small little girl and always with her nose in her books. It didn’t matter to me that I was younger than her by a little bit. She wasn’t impressed at all, even smacked me with one of her books once to remind me that she was both older and stronger after all.”

Kíli grinned at that. He wouldn’t have believed that of Ori, but then again he had witnessed what Dori was like when angered.

“I’m not sure _when_ we realized that we were, you know, in love… It’s hard I suppose, when you’re already very fond of somebody and are very young and never have known what it’s like. Of course she was clever enough to know before me.” 

They sat there quietly, peeling potatoes and smiling. Fíli looked very happy lost in his memory, and Kíli couldn’t help but feel happy for him and Ori as well.

“What about you?” Fíli asked. “Bofur told me that you tried to get that feather for somebody back home, but you never talk about it… I would have thought it was for… somebody else.”

Kíli’s lips twitched in a grimace. He didn’t know what to say about Ned, and Fíli already looked sorry for bringing it up.

“I went on a quest to bring…I wanted to bring Ned, that’s his name, something beautiful, something magical. I wanted him to come back to Arda with me, I wanted us to be able to be happy. You can’t truly _be_ with a man if you’re a man too, in England.”

Kíli stared at the small paring knife in his hand, feeling the burden of his nearly failed quest again.

“I really needed to prove him that I’m worthy of this, that we have a chance… I don’t know how much...how much I _need_ to anymore, though.”

Saying that out loud felt wrong, like a betrayal, but Kíli felt a little weight lift from his heart after having said it.

“I don’t even know if I’m still… in love with Ned. I don’t know if I’ve ever truly been? I thought it was true at the time but...now I don’t know what to think. I thought I wanted to be with him, but now it seems like I just wanted to be _worthy_ of being with him. Because he was older and handsome, and because he liked to kiss me. Not many boys risked kissing other boys.”

That too felt wrong to say, and he expected some remarks about being stupid, and how he’d wasted so much time worrying and trying to do things for Ned, only to give up after a change of heart. But no ‘told you so’ came from Fíli. He looked at Kíli with compassion and nodded.

“It’s not easy to figure that sort of thing out,” he said with a nod. “It’s especially hard without anyone to talk to about it.”

Kíli sighed.

“Love is all so…complicated! I seem to be terrible at telling what’s love and what isn’t, both for myself and for anyone.”

Fíli thought for a moment, the room only filled with the sound of vegetables being peeled and the wind and creaking of wood all around them.

“I don’t think it’s the same for everyone,” Fíli said slowly. “With Ori… It feels like she is my best friend. I can trust her with anything, and she treats me like a companion without tiptoeing around me just because I’m a prince. I enjoy her company and I try to make sure she’s happy with me as well. We only get to talk through letters, most of the time, but every time a new one comes I hide it away until I’m alone, so I can read it as many times as I want.”

Kíli listened, a little surprised but eager to hear more. Fíli was so different from the way all boys he knew talked about the girls they fancied.

“It feels like I’m _home_ when Ori is around, but it’s different than actually being at home. I feel content and good when she’s around, and I hope she feels just as happy as I do. I could listen to her go on and on about something I don’t know a single word about, but if she’s happy then I could listen for hours. Sometimes when I visit we don’t even talk; she can read for ages without speaking, and I’ll just write letters nearby. So often when she’s not around and I see things that remind me of her, or I want to show her everything and bring her things I know she’ll love, books and gorgeous quills and all that… I just like _being_ with her.”

He drifted off, ears red and eyes firmly on his hands. He looked nearly shy speaking of it.

Kíli stared down at his own hands, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he imagined the feelings Fíli described. He _knew_ those feelings.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

“Hm?”

“Tauriel. I… I feel like that about Tauriel,” he blurted out, this time truly feeling like he shouldn’t have said that.

Fíli looked up, smiling.

“I did wonder that,” he admitted, as if it wasn’t a great revelation. “You two seemed like very close friends, but also like there’s more.”

Kíli shook his head hard, brows furrowed in dismay.

“But I _can’t_ be in love with Tauriel. Just a few weeks ago I still thought Ned was the love of my life. I can’t just love somebody else like this. It’s not right, it’s not love if it’s so fickle.”

Fíli shrugged.

“Feelings are confusing, it doesn’t matter what you _thought_. Maybe you only _thought_ you were in love with that lad from your town. Maybe you did love him. Maybe you found it hard to realize you fell out of love because it seemed so important. Maybe being in love with Tauriel seemed like friendship. You’re not fickle for it.”

Kíli pressed his lips together, trying to think. How was he even supposed to tell what was true anymore. He… alright, he _loved_ Tauriel, yes, but not like _that_ , surely. He couldn’t. And surely she didn’t love him back, or she’d think it strange that he had gone on about Ned for so long and now suddenly didn’t. Not to mention the crew. Though they’d probably would think he was silly for clinging to Ned for this long. He still liked Ned too, even after all this. It wouldn’t be right.

Before his mind could drift off into the confusion and worries again a hand nudged his shoulder.

“You’re doing the face my uncle does when he’s being pestered by some fussy old lords.”

“No I’m not! What face?”

“The one where it seems like a shadow had fallen over your face and your eyebrows are doing...yes, exactly what, what you’re doing just now. I call it his brooding face. You look just like him when you do that.” Kíli scoffed and shoved Fíli’s shoulder, but he was smiling now.

“We’re done with those,” Fíli said when Kíli looked around for another vegetable to peel, pointing at the potatoes in his bucket.

They gathered up their things and picked up the full buckets, cursing at how heavy they were. As they slowly made their way through the storage room and towards the kitchen without dropping any of the potatoes, Fíli nudged Kíli again.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he said, a little concern in his voice. “There’s no use in trying to overthink feelings. And if you need anyone to talk who’ll keep a secret… I’m here for you, alright?”

Kíli nodded, smiling a little. Somehow just the offer of help and the fact that Fíli took the matter seriously reassured Kíli, and he put it out of his mind for the time being.


	40. The Hazards of Duty

The sky was a dark steel all around them, clouds obscuring even the ground, and the gusts of wind had already forced everyone to tighten their clothes and don their heavy raincoats. A storm was coming, and everyone was getting ready for the harvest, eager to gather a healthy bounty of lightning.

Compared to the small and tolerably fruitful storm they’d crossed some days ago, this one promised to be a big one. 

Nobody looked nervous about it, so neither did Kíli. In fact, they all were very excited about the upcoming work, even if it would be very tiring indeed. Everyone’s hands would be needed on deck, at least for the first part of the storm, when the ship entered and tried to find its pace between the clouds and lightning, so nobody even considered sending Kíli or Tauriel or any of the other young crewmembers below deck to wait in case they were needed.

Thunder could already be heard in the distance, and fledgeling crackles of lightning could be seen through the towering dark clouds. It was just a matter of time until they were upon it. Dwalin and Bifur stood at the helm, both working to prepare the ship to manoeuvre the upcoming harsh winds.

Kíli and Fíli had already wrapped up in the raincoats that would keep them from the worst of the rain, ready to face it. Though Kíli disliked doing anything with his hair, he had surrendered to Fíli’s help and a better hairstyle; Kíli’s bangs were brushed and secured away away from his face, and he had to admit that it was easier for hiding all of it under a hood, so it wouldn’t tangle beyond repair or get into his eyes. 

Bombur had prepared a warm broth that could be sealed up, handing every crewmember a mug of it to finish. There wouldn’t be any opportunity to eat any proper meal in the storm, which could last quite a while. As it was already quite cold Kíli was glad for it; the mug warmed his hands and the rising steam warmed his face, the only parts of him that were exposed to the biting wind.

Fíli was sipping his own slowly, savouring the taste and not risking burning his tongue as Kíli had (on several occasions).

“Have you been in storms much?” Kíli asked, glancing towards the looming anvil of clouds straight ahead.

Fíli shrugged.

“Sometimes. I never really got the chance to help though, as I was too young to be of much use. I got to watch the generators though, which was fine.”

He rubbed his nose against his cup a little, enjoying the moment of leisure before hard work would hit them. Kíli tried the method of just wolfing down the broth as quickly as he could without hurting himself, so he could put away the cup and feel the warmth spread in him. It was starting to sprinkle with rain, so now was the time for it.

“Did you tell her yet?” Fíli asked out of nowhere.

“Did I tell...who...what? Oh,” he muttered when he realized that it must be about Tauriel, given the look on Fíli’s face. His ears and cheeks burned despite the cold as he shook his head.

“No of course not!”

“Why? Are you nervous?”

“No, ‘course not! Well-“ Kíli bit his lip. He was nervous, yes, but that wasn’t the problem.

“I just… she thinks I love Ned, and it would be so strange to just tell her that I like her! What would she even think of me then?”

Fíli shrugged.

“Then make sure she knows you aren’t interested in pursuing _that_ relationship any longer first.”

Kíli pulled a face and shook his head again.

Of course that seemed like a good way to go about this, Fíli was right, but it wasn’t that simple! He couldn’t just walk up to Tauriel, nudge her shoulder and say ‘ _by the way, remember how I was trying to hard to prove that I love a boy and that I’m good enough for him? Well, I don’t like him as much anymore, but I do like you._ ’. That was simply ridiculous. 

The rain began falling on the deck properly, and the crew secured their hair and hoods. The wind had picked up as well, and the creaking sound of the nets being expanded resonated through the entire ship. They would be in the storm any moment now.

“Get ready lads!” Lifur called, appearing on the stairs above Fíli and Kíli. He had already had his hood up, and had rain goggles around his neck. He looked incredibly excited about the storm.

Nori appeared by his side, also quite pleased as he faced the storm.

“This one will make up for the lack of any lightning recently,” the first mate told them. “This harvest will get us a hefty sum.”

Another gust of wind sprayed all four with rain, the noises of the elements growing louder. Fíli quickly finished his broth and handed the mug to Kíli so he could put them away safely. It would not do to miss the moment when the Wind Dancer would fly right into the centre of the storm.

*

The ship was assaulted by rain and wind and pushed about hard as the storm raged around them. Bifur’s sure hand navigated them through the elements just fine, not letting the wind suck them in any specific direction and not caring for the rain that made seeing far impossible.

Not that there was anything to see anyway. Towers of dark purple and black clouds rose to their side and surrounded them up and below, illuminated by nothing but the lightning and the few lamps secured on board. The thought of being completely alone in the world, with nothing but the ship and endless storm, with no up or down and no ground, always crossed Nori’s mind when they were in such a magnificent storm. It always was a wonderful feeling.

Everything was working as smoothly as was possible in such erratic conditions. The entire crew was working hard to help manoeuvre the ship, make sure the sails were fine, and that the nets were working as they should.

Each time the lightning hit one of the nets, jagged dancing sparks of blinding white would shoot along the lattice of cables before disappearing up into the collection tubes. Everybody’s protective goggles were enough to keep off the rain and dull the brightness, which allowed them to view the magnificent display of the harvest without being blinded.

Nori lived for these moments.

“All in order,” he yelled over to where Dwalin stood near Bifur, watching the ship and the surroundings like a hawk.

Dwalin signalled Nori that he’d heard, still quiet as he watched on. Though this storm was large and violent, it also hadn’t yet given Dwalin cause to bark orders alongside Nori. It was routine; the entire ship was functioning like well oiled gears. Nori couldn’t help but be incredibly proud of that, of how well the crew knew each other and how well they could anticipate what Dwalin would want them to do, and what needed to be done. Even the rookies and younger sailors were doing exceptionally well. 

Nori strode through the rain, looking up to where the sails were straining in the wind. Once the crew had adjusted to this particular storm’s wind speed and quirks it would only be a matter of carefully keeping watch and adapt the ship to any changes.

His eyes fell to where Kíli and Tauriel stood, their hands on one of the sail’s ropes as they held it in place. The two had grown to be quite the sailors, good helping hands and as good a worker and pleasant company as everyone else on the ship, even if their arrival by glider had been...unconventional. They were grinning at each other, ignoring the elements causing chaos of rain and noise around them.

Nori could only roll his eyes at them as he adjusted his scarf, though he also couldn’t help but smirk at the two. Tauriel had done her hair up and out of the way, a crown of braids around her head, but a little of it was still flying loose in the wind, glowing in the lightning in that peculiar way of hers.

“All good?” he called over the wind to Bofur, knowing that Bofur would have trouble hearing him through the noise and the protection of his hat over his ears.

Bofur looked up from the generator connected to the nets and raised his thumb.

“All great!” he yelled back, louder than he really had to for Nori to catch it.

They stood and watched as the net in front of them lit up with lightning. The profits would be great, in a storm like this, not to mention that everything was just _beautiful_ up here. Everything was going perfectly.

An ear-splitting crack resonated behind them, and everyone startled, trying to find the source of such a noise. Several crewmembers looked up to the masts fearfully, worried that lightning had hit one of them after all. Nori and Bofur spun around to the net on the port side of the ship.

Lightning danced around the net without actually moving along and up to the capacitors. Instead it fizzled out pitifully. Smoke seemed to rise from some of the net’s strands, though it was hard to see through the rain and the darkness.

“Oh no, no!” Bofur called out, distraught at the sight.

They ran towards the net’s generator, where Lifur seemed to be very worried about what had transpired where his task was set. Everyone around them was watching them worriedly, unsure of what was going to happen now.

“What happened with that?” Dwalin asked, after waving everyone back to their work. It wouldn’t do to neglect the rest of the ship and cause more issues when there already seemed to be a problem.

Bofur quickly pulled out a small spyglass from one of his coat pockets to better examine the net. Nori was looking too, squinting into the dark and trying to see what was going on. The net didn’t look like all of it had broken down, as there was still lightning somehow catching in it, but barely any of it seemed to go anywhere.

“There,” Bofur eventually said and pointed towards one of the vertical strands. “Seems to be the cables Captn’. Something’s off so the outer half broke down and won’t conduct anythin’ where it’s supposed to.”

“Can you fix that now?”

Bofur shook his head.

“Not without pulling in the nets, Captn’. An’ I doubt that will work if some connection broke and the entire port side isn’t doin’ what it’s supposed to.”

Dwalin cursed and glared at the broken net. Nori could understand; for one of the main and crucial cables to disconnect in the middle of a storm was rather grating.

“What’s the worst that will happen,” Dwalin asked Bofur, already moving on to damage control.

“Well, we won’t catch anything meaningful on this net, but the other is enough to actually keep the lightning from hitting the ship. But might be that this one will start collapsing or break if lightning hits it, which would mean we’d need to replace the entire machine.”

He patted the generator at his side and Dwalin nodded.

“Very well… Shut it off then, there’s nothing we can do.”

Nori stared out at the net, at the spot just a few yards away from the rail where the problem lay. They would lose so much money on this, if it wasn’t fixed. The Wind Dancer would only harvest half the lightning with only one net running. Not to mention just how much gold would have to go into replacing half of their harvest mechanics if they continued trying to use the damaged net. No, this simply would not do, they could not let this happen with so few storms in recent weeks and so early in such a promising harvest.

“Ah, wargshit,” he said loudly, enough for Dwalin to stop in his tracks.

“What?” the Captain asked, and though he was wearing goggles Nori could tell his brow was deeply furrowed.

Nori shrugged and started opening his heavy raincoat. It would only hinder him.

“There’s always something we can do,” he clarified, not looking at Dwalin as he dumped his coat and then his scarf into Lifur’s hands. Within moments his shirt and vest were wet, soaking through quickly in the rain.

“Bofur, switch this net off,” Nori ordered.

“Nori, what do you think you’re doing,” Dwalin growled, taking a step closer.

Again Nori ignored him and went to find the harness that was always close to the machines, even in a storm.

“I’m going to fix this and then we’ll harvest on.”

Nori tightened the harness around his body quickly, stepping away with the rope that would connect him to the ship trailing behind.

“Nori! You will not!”

Nori shrugged and quickly dashed towards the rail. The climbing gear was made for these sorts of repairs, his Captain knew that.

Everyone was watching now, waiting for Dwalin to stop their first mate. But Nori was quicker than Dwalin, already straddling the rail and reaching for one of the climbing cables of the net.

“NORI!”

The call of his name was a threat now, Dwalin’s face looked truly thunderous in the light dancing around them. His hands reached for Nori, ready to drag him back on deck in seconds.

Nori grinned and saluted, before letting himself drop off the side of the ship.

A tad dramatic maybe, but Nori’s hands found the lightning net’s cables easily, one of his feet bracing against the rope-net around the hull of the ship. The rope securing him to the ship was fluttering in the wind, so close to the ship still, so Nori flicked his braid back and began his climb.

Just as he was a few feet away from the ship, the wind picked up, dragging at Nori’s clothes and pressing rain against him. Without the protection of the Wind Dancer’s deck the rain and wind were coming from every direction, icy and obscuring the view.

Nori ignored all of that, carefully shifting his feet and hands along, from section to section of the net. The cables were cold and wet, but their rough texture at least prevented them from being slippery. He was experienced with climbing in less than ideal conditions, and though he _could_ be fast he refused to rush for the sake of it.

Step by step, inch by inch Nori made his way towards his goal. The rain was now streaming over his goggles, making it hard to see details. Looking back Nori could see Dwalin standing at the rail, hands clenched around the wood. He was glaring, Nori could see that much in the dark and the rain.The other visible crewmembers were waiting with bated breath.

The other net on the starboard side was lighting up more than usual, which meant Bofur had not only switched off the broken one, but also was trying to attract more lightning over there, to make sure none would hit Nori. That would give him a bit more security as he worked, but might also hinder the generator to take in the lightning well. Not everyone would have risked it.

Finally Nori reached the tear. It seemed that the cable had truly just disconnected in a way that blocked the conduction of lightning towards the capacitors.

Nori clipped his security rope to the climbing cable, giving him the freedom to move his hands without falling back and hitting the Wind Dancer’s side. That could result in bruises and a tedious climb back to his goal.

The net had collapsed a little under Nori’s weight but it was stable enough to stand on as he worked. He ran his hands over the cable as he fixed the connections where they were supposed to be. It didn’t seem as if anything was permanently damaged apart from the disconnected cables, thank the Maker. They would have to get it fully fixed at port, but for now it could be stabilized enough to get the job done..

Slowly climbing down along the net, Nori repaired the offending cable in its full length, confident that he had done enough to save them the losses.

His feet were on the lowest part of the net when Nori was finished, and he allowed himself the briefest break as he unclipped his rope from the net, leaving it fluttering between him and the ship once more. The water was streaming all over him, leaving him cold and clinging to the net on instinct to brace against the wind. Everything was swaying a little, and as Nori looked down there was nothing beneath his feet, only mountains of clouds and chasms of complete darkness, merely lit bit brief winding lightning creeping and cracking below. There wasn’t even a sign of land existing below, as if the world were simply endless stormy sky.

Nori looked towards the ship, cheek pressed to where his hands clung to the rope, and for a moment he considered just letting go and swinging against the ship. As taxing as climbing up from his current position would be, the alternative was more unappealing by far.

With a quiet curse Nori started his way back, edging towards the ship the way he’d come. There still seemed to be too many figures facing him instead of just going on with their work, but at least somebody seemed to have picked up Nori’s rope to carefully roll it up as he came closer. Good idea, that way he wouldn’t hit the ship’s hull quite as hard, should he slip. 

Step by step the ship came closer, and when the rail was within arm’s reach Nori let go of the net, twisting up and to his right to search for purchase. His hands touched the outside of the rail, feeling for a proper handhold when a strong pair of hands wrapped around his wrists and pulled him up.

With water streaming over his goggles Nori couldn’t really see what was going on as hands grabbed at his arms and shirt, hauling him aboard before they let go and Nori stumbled away until he was sure of his footing.

Nori unbuckled the climbing gear and stepped out of it before he removed his goggles and blinked up through the rain at those who’d dragged him the last bit of the way.

Bofur had already turned back to his generator, switching on the net now that it could be used again. Nori had succeeded, then.

Everyone was still watching from their positions, and Nori turned to find Dwalin looming right in front of him, still at the rail where he’d waited for Nori to climb back. For a second Nori thought that Dwalin would roll his eyes or maybe even commend his quick actions.

Instead Dwalin’s face twisted in anger and he shoved his goggles down to hang around his neck, harsh shadows cast by the lightning making him look truly furious.

“What were you thinking?!” Dwalin bellowed, his voice clear even above the thunder, tone furious.

As if that wasn’t indication enough about how he felt, Dwalin’s hands reached out to grab Nori’s shoulders hard, keeping him in place and forcing him to look up at his Captain’s face.

“What do you think you were doing there?”

On instinct Nori shifted away, as far as he could with Dwalin’s grip keeping him in place. He sneered as he always did when somebody raised their voice or hand on him.

“I was saving the Wind Dancer’s equipment and the success of this harvest, that’s what I was doing! A thank you would be in order, _I think_.”

He tried batting off one of Dwalin’s hands, but his Captain’s grip was steady.

“I _ordered_ you not to go,” Dwalin snarled. “I was against such reckless and dangerous behaviour!”

His was baring his teeth a little, clearly agitated. Clearly not really thinking about this right.

“With all due respect,” Nori started, a tad coldly perhaps, but then he _had_ just braved wind and rain and possible pain along with some bruises to do the right thing for the Wind Dancer. “You didn’t actually use the word _order_ , per say. And the net breaking down like that would have cost us both the lightning _and_ the entire port half of our nets and machinery. We would have lost so much gold if we’d lost either of these-“

“AND IF YOU’D FALLEN?” Dwalin roared. “What would that loss be? I can replace those machines easily, I can afford losing both of these twice over but with _you_ I can’t just- I can’t just _replace_ the best first mate in Erebor-“

What Nori had taken for anger was slowly draining from Dwalin, leaving him just extremely troubled. His hands were still on Nori’s shoulders, holding on tight and in place but not hurting him.

Nori had nothing he could say to that, staring up at Dwalin with wide eyes. The nets were _important_ , and it was his duty to either find somebody to fix them or do it himself. It was what he was supposed to do.

Dwalin should know that this would be what needed to be done when something broke and needed to be fixed, and _could_ be fixed. He must have witnessed it on ships he’d served on in the past, surely?

With his Captain’s eyes still on him Nori didn’t know what to do or say. His eyes moved past Dwalin’s face and towards where the lightning was being caught in the net, proof that he’d done something right at least. 

Dwalin’s hands flexed a little, before he slid them off Nori’s shoulders slowly. With the strong grip gone Nori realised he’d started to shiver, his body regretting the lack of a coat now that his work was done.

Dwalin noticed it too, taking in the state of Nori’s soaked clothes. He relaxed a little, moving away. He turned to Lifur, waving him over.

“Get him his coat back, he’s gonna freeze here.”

Nori’s things were handed over by the worried looking lad, and Dwalin placed the coat around Nori’s shoulders, not really warming him the least bit but at least keeping the rain off. Everyone was watching as Nori held it in place with stiff fingers, still standing straight and awaiting more reprehension or some order. Dwalin shook his head, barely looking him in the eye.

“Get back to my rooms and dry off.”

The unspoken ‘ _and stay in there_ ’ hung heavy on the end of the order, and Nori’s heart sank.

Dwalin really didn’t seem angry anymore, which only made Nori frown more. He really didn’t understand Dwalin’s mood today.

Instead of saying anything Nori just nodded briefly; he was sure his teeth would clatter from how cold he felt if he opened his mouth. He turned and walked back with head held high towards the door under the helm’s deck rail, feeling the eyes of the crewmembers still upon him. Dwalin saw it too, and Nori heard him ordering everyone to focus on the storm again.

The narrow corridor leading to his room was pitch black, but when Nori reached the door to Dwalin’s office it was illuminated already. A pale lamp cast enough light to see everything clearly, especially with the lightning still cracking outside.

Truly shivering now Nori let go of his coat, moving reluctantly. Peeling off his soaked clothes was unpleasant; everything stuck to him and dripped rainwater once removed. He didn’t care much for the drops landing on Dwalin’s carpet, dropping his shirt and vest next to the couch, and following suit with his boots and trousers. 

His undershirt was soaked through as well; Nori wasn’t dry still, but at least he did feel a little better with the clothes off. Still not _warm_ though.

Instead of going to his room to fetch dry clothes Nori moved on to Dwalin’s small bedchamber. He briefly considered stealing some of Dwalin’s clothes, but then opted for Dwalin's blanket instead.

A brief pat revealed that Dwalin had hidden a heating stone under the blanket, so his bed would be cozy by the time he returned to it. Quite a few of the crewmembers did something like this in winter or when there was a storm, so they could slip into cosy warmth right after having to freeze out in the rain.

Nori sighed as he dragged the blanket off Dwalin’s bed to wrap it around his body. It _was_ warm, enough to stop his trembling a little. He walked back to the main room to sit down on the couch. He hid his feet under the blanket as well as he pulled up his legs, cuddling up.

Belatedly Nori realized that his hair would soak the blanket a little, and it might be cold and damp by the time Dwalin actually went to bed. Feeling petulant, Nori decided not to care. That’s what his Captain would get for being so unreasonable with Nori earlier.

Nori had served for short times on many ships,when there had been little choice, and the ship’s owners asked no questions about the pasts or crimes of crewmembers. If something broke and could be fixed in flight, it would be, no matter the weather. _No matter what_. True, it had never been the _first mate_ , but rather the most expendable crewmembers if there was a chance of danger, or those who had the most experience and chance of getting it done quickly. 

Consequences were suffered for high losses and damaged equipment. Losing such a big lightning haul might have meant less food during meals, and loss of profit, loss of pay and then what would one do, lacking the means to purchase what was needed…?

Nori crossed his arms over his legs, resting his chin on them and looking out of the window at the beautiful play of light and dark. Even after ten years aboard the Wind Dancer, old habits were hard to shake.

Dwalin should know that… he should prioritize the crew and their profits. Nori already led risky ventures under Dwalin’s orders, this time shouldn’t have been any different. Was it because Nori had gone against his order? Surely Dwalin wasn’t that petty.

The stubbornness was slowly seeping from Nori as he felt a pang of guilt. He _had_ disobeyed, even if he as the first mate should be doing so if he felt the Captain was making a mistake, and as long as he wasn’t undermining his authority among the crew. He had made Dwalin worry too.

Nori brushed that aside for now, sitting quietly wrapped in the blanket, and listened to the sound of rain and thunder outside. 

*

The storm had calmed into heavy rain outside of the ship, with only an occasional thunderclap and the buzz of the capacitors to be heard. There was no need for the entire crew to be out there anymore though, which was why the youngest had moved below deck into one of the sleeping chambers.

They sat between the barrels and chests of personal belongings and supplies, the rolled up hammocks fastened to the ceiling above. This room had no windows in it, but the softly swinging lamps they’d hung up on the posts were enough to provide a cosy light for them. Fíli had nicked them a bag of crispy fried potato slices from the galley, which they were passing around to snack on.

“Will the nets be alright now?” Fíli asked Lifur, who was now lounging in his hammock.

Lifur shrugged as he tended to his waterlogged hair.

“Yeah should be. It doesn’t _seem_ to be anything too bad, so we can fix it when the weather is good. Worst case we’ll just have to do that in port.”

Tauriel listened to them speak of the mechanics of it, brushing her hair out carefully. She sat close to Sigrid, a lamp between them that warmed their dampened clothes where even the raincoat had not protected them. From what she had gathered it had been unlikely that the broken net would impact on the ship’s safety, though Nori had saved them a lot of upcoming trouble with the quick fix. Despite making the entire ship wait with bated breath for fear of his safety.

Though he had taken a safety line, there had been no doubt that Nori could still have gotten seriously hurt. Tauriel had certainly never seen the entire ship so tense, or the Captain looking so on edge as he’d watched every move Nori had made out on the net.

“That was so brave,” Kíli muttered, half in awe. “That he would do something like that for the ship.”

“It was reckless,” Sigrid said, shaking her head. “If the ship were in actual _danger_ , then yes. But like this Nori just…”

Everyone hummed in agreement as Sigrid picked at her braids to let her hair down.

“He said something about losing profits, and I’d get it, if we truly were struggling. The Wind Dancer can afford losing a harvest or machinery, we make enough gold through other things, trade and special orders from the King.”

“Maybe he’s struggled before?” Lifur piped up. “I mean… he was a thief, right? And he was on other ships? Some captains might have ordered for the net to be repaired, in this situation.”

“Did he say that?” Tauriel asked. She didn’t know much about Nori, besides what she saw him do. He never spoke about his past though, unless it involved his sisters, and even then he didn’t really give any clues about anything else in his life.

Everyone shook their heads.

“He never talks about it,” Lifur said, looking upset. “Even uncle Bofur isn’t sure about anything really, and you can trust him for just about any gossip”

Fíli shook his head as well.

“I’m with his _sister_ and I know nothing. I think he doesn’t tell Ori too much either, and she doesn’t go about disclosing her brother’s affairs.”

“I think it’s only the Captain who really knows about his past.”

Lifur leaned down from his hammock, grinning.

“The Captain was real agitated, wasn’t he? Who else thought he’d _say_ somethin’ right then and there?”

A collective groan rose in the room, as Lifur snickered. Only Kíli looked confused as he turned from one to the other.

“Say something? But... Dwalin did yell quite a bit. What was he supposed to say?”

Fíli smirked.

“See, Dwalin was very agitated, and people do let things slip out if they are worried or very emotional in general.”

Kíli blinked at him, confused.

“So?”

“So. It really looked like Dwalin would tell Nori just _how much_ he cares for him.”

Kíli stared at him, then at everyone else who was giving him a look, waiting for him to get it.

“What… you mean… Those two? Ah come on, that’s just silly,” he said, laughing, but nobody else came forth to admit that it was a silly joke. Kíli frowned again. “Really?”

“Of course, didn’t you see how they are together?”

Kíli shook his head and threw Tauriel a questioning look, as if hoping for her to back him up.

“It really does seem like there’s something between them,” Tauriel said, shrugging. “I’m a bit surprised you didn’t see just how close they are.”

“You too?” he asked, pouting a little at being the only one not in on the joke. 

“Well, they’re obviously very close friends,” Tauriel started, thinking back to any instance she’d seen the Captain and the first mate interact. “But you really do get the feeling that there’s more affection in how they interact in quieter moments.”

“They spend so much time together, not working,” Lifur whispered as if he was letting everyone in the room in on a secret. “Uncle Bofur sometimes tells me about it, if it’s really really quiet you can sometimes hear what’s going on in the Captain’s quarters if you’re sitting next to the helm. He said that Dwalin sometimes plays his violin when Nori’s there.”

Kíli frowned. 

“But who else would they spend their time with- and _why_ is everyone eavesdropping on the Captain in the first place?”

“They bring each other presents all the time,” Sigrid went on. “Mostly trinkets from markets and sweets, but that _is_ how you you show affection in little ways.”

“They’re always watching each other,” Fíli added. “When they are distracted, and they seek each other out and touch casually. Besides, I know for a fact that both of them try very hard to see each other happy when they think they can get away with it.”

“Fine,” Kíli admitted. “Maybe they _are_ interested in one another. But why are they not together then? If they’re so close already?”

Annoyed muttering went through the room, especially from those who’d known Nori and Dwalin for longer. 

“Maker, I _wish_ they’d confess,” Lifur said with an eyeroll. “It’s very hard to watch them and know they’re oblivious. I doubt they _know_.”

“How is _that_ supposed to work”? Kíli asked, glaring up at him.

Fíli leaned forward to snatch the potatoes Kíli had forgotten about. 

“It’s simple really. Some people are very much in love but wouldn’t know it if their life depended on it. Just as some people think they’re in love, but really they are only in love with the idea of impressing someone....”

He threw Kíli a meaningful look, as Kíli’s entire face turned crimson. 

“I’m not… I don’t think I am anymore,” he muttered, avoiding everyone’s eyes. 

Fíli was still staring at him, as if he was waiting for him to say more, but Kíli pressed his lips together and said nothing else. 

Sigrid sighed and nudged Fíli with her foot so he’d hand over the snacks. 

“If any of us were stupid about love, we have an excuse,” she said, taking the food and offering some to Tauriel. “We are young, we’re supposed to be stupid. If the older crew are to be believed, this has been going on for _years_. Unbearable, really.”

Kíli looked a little grateful at the statement, giving him an excuse rather than teasing him about the his problems.

Lifur had crossed his arms to stretch out again, thinking. 

“Who wants to bet though?”

“On what?”

“On what it’d take for them to confess and snog each other silly.”

Everyone thought for a moment, only half seriously. 

“I bet it’ll be during a soppy… royal event or something, maybe a wedding,” Lifur started, giving Fíli meaningful glance and receiving a glare. “And they’ll wander off and they’ll be very emotional before _'Oh Captain, I wish we could celebrate our… intense friendship… like this too'_.”

Lifur tried to mock Nori’s voice, but laughed to much and ruined the attempt.

“And then the captain drops to one knee to ask _'will you be the first mate...of my heart-'_ ”

Fíli and Kíli snorted at that, and Sigrid waved him off. 

“It would be if some noble tried to flirt with Dwalin. He does have high standing and he’s a war hero, isn’t he? And you know how Nori gets when he thinks a noble is trying to approach anything that’s important to him. He doesn’t like them, he’s always trying to make sure his claim on something is clear, so he’d probably ‘claim’ Dwalin more or less on accident. Neither would mind, would they now?”

She thought for a moment. 

“That, or it’d be a confession while they’re both high on danger and nearly lost each other.”

Lifur shook his head. 

“Well, which one, you can’t bet on both.”

Sigrid shrugged. 

“Both is possible with them.”

Tauriel nodded in agreement. 

“What happened today came close, didn’t it?”

“I wish.”

They sat in silence for a while, pondering the bet while Kíli seemed to still be trying to process the new information. 

“We should all go to bed rather than sit around here,” Fíli eventually started. “Best not have anyone else hear, who knows whether Dwalin will catch wind of it.”

Everyone nodded, and Sigrid and Tauriel stood up to return to their own sleeping chamber. The boys went to prepare their sleeping space behind them. 

Sigrid had just crossed the small corridor into their own chamber, when something grabbed Tauriel’s wrist. She turned to see Kíli, looking up at her with a very determined look in his face. His hair was still pulled back in the style Fíli had talked him into, though a few strands had escaped and hung into his face.

He looked very adorable like that, and Tauriel thought she must be quite tired to let herself think that. 

“I don’t think I’ll really return to Ned,” Kíli said, out of nowhere. “I mean, I would want to visit my town and see everyone, especially my father, but I don’t think it was ever going to work out with Ned. He wasn’t keen on the idea of coming to Arda in the first place and it was silly to think I could change his mind just like that. I’d much rather stay here and have adventures!”

His cheeks were a little red, and Tauriel was sure her own were heating up too as she listened quietly. 

“I liked just wandering around with you, and I would love to do it again, but I also adore life on the ship. I like Arda, and I like our adventures, I like… well I like this much more than I’d like being back in England with Ned.”

“Do you...like me...in the way you liked him?” Tauriel asked slowly, a little too hopeful perhaps. 

Kíli’s face was red as he stared up at her, opening his mouth and closing it again. 

“Well-”

He looked down at their hands, pausing briefly before letting go.

“Good night Tauriel,” he said hurriedly, and quickly retreated back to his hammock.

Tauriel was left standing alone in the dark, staring at the door. She felt warmth blooming in her chest despite how strange this interaction just had been. Kíli might as well have said ‘yes.’

What was to become of them now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be a party next chapter, with music, maybe some dancing lessons... nothing special you know?


	41. The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are Tauriel's previously worn outfits, along with the dress she receives here http://hattedhedgehog.tumblr.com/post/132744464972/

“If there’s one thing I miss about Erebor, it’s the gorgeous celebrations they throw at the palace.”

“What? With the flouncy dancing and all of that?”

“Of course! The feasts are glorious but just imagine dancing through the great hall with your love, moving with the music-”

“Bah, who would want to be that _boring_?”

Bofur and Glóin were taking a break as the ship cruised through the gentle wind. The hatted engineer had made himself comfortable on a coiled rope while Glóin stood at the first step leading up to the helm’s deck. Their different opinions on the capital and the palace seemed to be today’s source of entertainment.

Glóin had grown up there, being born to a branch of the royal family, and hence loved all about it, while Bofur tended to poke fun at the nobility, claiming the extent he’d go to fit in would be changing into a clean shirt. Any social group whose rules required the removal of his beloved hat at functions were not to be trusted.

“You can’t dismiss the entire thing because of a few prissy nobles,” Glóin insisted, voice very loud and carrying over the entire ship, making everyone glance his way and follow the conversation whether they intended to or not. “I’m annoyed by them on a regular basis, trust me, but that sort mostly tries to bother the King, and if they’re not there it’s very peaceful.”

Tauriel sat with her chin resting on her hands. She wondered if she would get to see the palace of Erebor someday. It seemed like a higher possibility, now.

Fíli had approached Kíli, with the proposition of Kíli joining him on his confidential royal mission. He had then asked Tauriel if she would want to leave the ship and come along as well. According to the prince, King Thorin would feel far more comfortable if Fíli has trustworthy companions to watch his back on his quest, now that he’d decided to travel without his guards. Fíli had warned them that the journey might be long, but with hardly any discussion, they had both jumped at the opportunity. 

As much as both of them had grown to love the Wind Dancer, they were glad for the chance to wander on foot once more, and with a new companion and purpose.

The Captain saw no reason to keep them from going, and had promised that there would always be a place on the Wind Dancer for the two of them.

“You’re hard workers and get along with everyone just fine,” Dwalin had said, when all three had tracked him down to ask. “If you grow tired of wandering, just find us or send a raven.”

The star already missed the crew, even if they wouldn’t leave for another couple of days.

“What’s the point of throwing one giant fancy party and _dancing_ so much when you know the kitchens prepared a giant feast for you?” Bofur was asking now, bringing Tauriel back to the present. “See, I can understand dancing wild around a nice warm fire until you’re exhausted and hungry and could eat a whole horse, but just to dance all neat in special steps in special circles?”

“That’s not how you do it,” Glóin insisted, getting a little louder. “Have you ever even _been_ to a dance like that?”

Bofur scratched the back of his neck and shrugged.

“Someone once tried to teach us the steps but I couldn’t get it right and our hands always wandered lower and lower...and then we had better things to do than dancing, to be honest.”

There were a few snickers, but Glóin’s beard bristled.

“You can’t compare learning how to dance to actually doing it. It’s fun, believe it or not.”

Bofur nodded good-naturedly.

“I suppose I can respect that opinion, even though I think the whole thing is a load of-.”

“We danced at our wedding,” Mirra remembered with perfect timing, stepping closer to lean against the rail at Bofur’s side. “You were there for that, Bo.”

“See, I was drunk at that point of your feast and had other things in mind.”

Other crewmembers began piping up, remembering moments when they’d danced or learned to do it. Tauriel herself had nothing to say about that. She was too young a star to remember the days when her siblings would descend and dance above the trees. 

“Bet you can’t even handle the formality, Bofur,” scoffed Óin. “Don’t want to exhaust yourself with manners or anything...not that you had any in the first place.”

Bofur squinted at Óin. “You accusing me of something? I could do it if I were _so inclined_.”

“There’s quite an easy solve to this,” Nori called from above everyone else.

He’d been idly leaning against the helm’s deck rail, watching the crew but not contributing to the conversation up to this point. He was wearing a beautiful red fur coat, though it wasn’t that cold yet, and leaned his face on his hand.

“And what would that be?” Bofur called up to him.

“We throw a party on deck of course!”

The crew muttered and threw their first mate questioning looks, though they also looked excited about the prospect of a party.

“We have music and enough fancy clothes stashed away somewhere with the loot we don’t sell, so we can even make it like the real thing,” Nori went on. “See it as practice for Durin’s Day. And a last bit of fun before we say goodbye to Kíli and Tauriel.”

Now the crew was truly getting excited about it, watching Nori with hopeful eyes. Tauriel sat up straighter to better see him from her spot, wishing that he wasn’t joking about it. She wanted a party as much as the others did.

Nori turned to lean against the rail with his back, smiling sweetly.

“What say you, Captain?”

Dwalin stood at the helm so Tauriel couldn’t see him, but he must have nodded or said something, because Nori turned back to the crew with a grin and a raised arm.

“Prepare for the feast then!” he called, and the crew erupted in cheer. 

“Once the decks are swept,” Dwalin added, and the cheer became half-hearted grumbles.

Once all duties were finished,Tauriel watched the crew head below deck, chattering excitedly. Fíli dragged Kíli past her, promising Kíli that he could wear his own court clothes if they fit him, and Lifur trailed behind complaining about wanting a prince's outfit too. 

Tauriel hoped there would be a waistcoat or fancy shirt somewhere in the cargo, as she had nothing of her own. As Mirra and Sigrid disappeared below deck, Tauriel made to follow, but was stopped by the call of her name.

Nori descended the last few stairs and leaned his head to the side, giving her a look over. 

"I think I might be able to do you one better than just leftovers from storage," he said, eyes evaluating her body thoughtfully. "I'm sure I have something your size, if you fancy trying it."

"I...thank you!" Tauriel managed with grateful surprise.

Nori indicated her to follow him, and led her to the Captain's quarters below deck, finally stopping at the place where he had offered her dry clothes her first night on board.

With the afternoon light streaming inside the room it was much easier to see what was inside the closet, and Tauriel waited curiously as Nori went inside to pull back the curtains protecting the clothes inside. He hung up his fur coat carefully, and then turned his attention to what else was there.

“Is there any particular colour you like?” he asked, peering at the hangers thoughtfully.

He was blocking the view, so Tauriel didn’t see what options there were.

“Um…” she said, glancing around for inspiration. The only other dress she’d ever worn had been the one she’d fallen in, long lost in the ruins of the abandoned inn, but she certainly couldn’t ask for a dress of spun light that shone silver like the moon.

“I quite like blue?”

“That would suit you,” Nori agreed and turned to the other side of the closet to search there instead.

Now that Tauriel could see inside, she noticed that the big walk-in wardrobe was full of gowns. Side by side and on their hangers it was hard to see them fully, but they were made of an array of beautiful materials and delicate lace, embroidered in tasteful colours and patterns. She wanted to step forward and touch them, but she remained where she was and waited for Nori to be done with looking for what he wanted.

“There it is!”

Finally Nori pulled out a hanger and stepped closer to show off the dress in the room’s light. It was a dark blue, looking quite simple if it weren’t for its sheer sleeves and the beautiful silver sequin trim that caught the light and sparkled with the slightest movement. Part of the dress resembled a glittering vest, which wrapped around the bust and hung down in long pointed tails.

“Try this one, I’m sure it will fit. I haven’t had the chance to tailor it yet so it should be fine.”

Tauriel took the dress from him carefully, feeling how light and soft the material was. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, barely aware of Nori lighting the lamps fully and ushering her towards the changing screen.

“It’s easy to put on but tell me if you need any help,” Nori suggested, stepping out to lean against the doorframe.

She was hesitant at first in touching the dress, lest the material rip, but soon Tauriel realized that it was quite sturdy, and dressed quickly. It was very comfortable and long, but it didn’t hinder her movements at all. Tauriel let her necklace slide to rest below the neckline and out of sight, and stepped out from behind the screen to see herself in the mirror.

“Oh!”

It did suit her perfectly, as if the dress had been made just for her. She moved and turned in front of the mirror, watching the way the skirts swished and the light caught it with fascination.

“Yes, good.”

Nori stepped closer to tug at her sleeve and adjust the shoulders a little, then he nodded, pleased with the result.

“Do you want me to rebraid your hair to match?”

“I’d love that, but you’ve done so much already by just letting me wear this-” Tauriel protested, eyes leaving the reflection of the dress, but Nori waved her off.

“It’s been a while since I’ve styled anybody’s hair but my own, I’ve missed it,” he assured her. With that he fetched her a stool to sit on and proceeded to undo the few braids she already had in her hair.

“Such a lovely thing needs a matching hairdo,” he explained, and handed Tauriel the hairpin Kíli had gifted her, to hold on to.

“I would offer you shoes but I don’t actually have that many, and they truly need to _fit_ for a dance. Your boots will do fine; the dress is long enough to hide them anyway.”

Tauriel smiled and turned the hairpin in her hands. The blue and white gems in it matched her dress, and it would be nice to actually display the token better.

Nori fetched a comb and a hairbrush, and set to smoothing out any tangles in Tauriel’s hair. There were never many, but it was still nice to have somebody brush it out more gently than she would.

“I’ll braid it just a little bit, but for this dress I think a low woven bun at the back of your neck would work just fine.”

Tauriel closed her eyes and hummed in agreement, trusting Nori on knowing what went well together. He always took good care of braiding his hair neatly, and he had enough dresses to have _some_ experience at least.

She relaxed slowly, enjoying the rhythmic movements of Nori’s hands as he brushed her hair gently. Nobody had ever done that for her (without an ulterior motive at least) and Tauriel thought she could use being coddled a little every now and then. Coddled where things didn’t turn out to be dangerous that is; once was certainly enough times to be caught off guard like that.

Nori’s hands stopped for a moment, but then he just replaced his brush with a comb and went on.

“You have very peculiar hair,” he said, voice low and thoughtful. Tauriel hummed in agreement, not quite caring for why he thought that.

“Did you know it shines when you’re relaxed and happy?”

“Shines?”

Tauriel wasn’t sure what he meant, but Nori was holding her hair and playing with it to see what he could do in a matter of braids.

“Is it because you’re a star?”

Tauriel froze, fear gripping at her heart. She opened her eyes to see her own reflection in the mirror, her hair emitting a cool silver light, just the same as her whole body had when she was still in her sky-form. Nori was looking at the reflection too, his narrow eyes focused on the shine.

The light disappeared instantly and Tauriel didn’t dare move, with Nori’s hands still in her hair. He wasn’t holding her though, or pulling her closer to keep her from running away. She couldn’t run away even if she wanted to; they were in the air and there was no way Dwalin would lower the ship just because of an allegation against his first mate – if he wasn’t in on it as well-

“So it’s true,” Nori mused, looking down at Tauriel with raised eyebrows. “We had a star crash into our ship. Who’d have thought.”

Tauriel waited with bated breath. The last time anyone had known she was a star, she and Kíli had nearly died and-

She was not helpless now. Her knives lay with her shirt and vest a few feet away, surely she could reach them in time if necessary-

“There’s no need to be afraid,” Nori promised, letting go of Tauriel’s hair. “Nobody on board would harm you, and only Dwalin shares my suspicion.”

“Why would you care then?” Tauriel asked, still cautious but relaxing a little. If anyone meant her any harm they’d have tried something long ago.

“We saw you fall one night,” Nori said with a shrug. “And a star that falls and stays in Arda would be a prize many would want for themselves, for one reason or another. It’s mostly those using dark powers of some sort who’d truly harm you, and nobody wants that around.”

He picked Tauriel’s hair back up and started to part it to braid and style it properly.

“What you told us about the Orcs hunting you down? They suspected, didn’t they?”

Tauriel nodded as much as she could with Nori still tugging at her hair. Her fingers moved over Kíli’s hairpin, the familiar object soothing her a little.

“They were after me specifically that night,” she said. “But they would have killed Kíli too.”

“Well regardless of their intentions, we don’t stand for it in Erebor.”

“There was a war, you know? Against Orcs and other foul creatures. Maybe you saw it from up there; I don’t know what you stars pay attention to. But it was horrible for all of us, especially those in villages or closer to the borders. Trade was hard and everyone suffered. Nobody wants that to happen again, so any Orc daring to come close will be fought off.”

His voice grew quieter.

“I was too young to join the armies back then, and it wasn’t pleasant off the battlefields anyway. Dwalin was there though, and he won’t let anyone targeted by Orcs come to harm.”

Tauriel found that she believed him.

“I know it could be dangerous for someone like me,” she told Nori. 

“Kíli knows, doesn’t he.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“He’s a good lad,” said Nori, and Tauriel hummed in agreement.

They were silent for a while, as Nori worked on her hairdo.

“Where did you get this many dresses from anyway?” she asked after a while, “They all look about your size, but I’ve never seen you in anything quite so grand.” She gestured over her shoulder to the rows of dresses.

His hands stilled for a moment.

“Those dresses…” Nori started slowly. “I’ve collected them slowly over my time aboard the Wind Dancer.”

He paused for a moment.

“Most were loot, some are bought, and then Dwalin sometimes finds things for me in markets or in loot I missed, or he commissions… I never had anything like it before I served on this ship.”

Tauriel could hear him smirk a little.

“Nobody knows, not even my sisters.”

“Why not? They’re so pretty, I’m sure you’d look…” She paused, unsure of whether to say _beautiful_ or _dashing_.

“Very elegant,” she settled for, and Nori gave her a self-deprecating smile.

“Look at me. Anybody who’s anybody knows I’ve always been a criminal with sharp wits and sharper knives. I steal, I drink, I don’t care about anything or anyone and take what I want. This is what I became when I was young and on my own, and that reputation protected me. That reputation gets our business done quickly. How quickly do you think that would shatter if people knew that I like nothing more than beautiful gowns and the feeling of chiffon against my hands?”

Tauriel glanced at the delicate dresses around her. She supposed that at first glance they didn’t look like something a man such as Nori would like, though she knew him better by now, and wouldn’t think it so strange after all.

“I see,” she said slowly. “But the crew respect you, how would this change things?”

Nori stilled for a moment, either thinking or at a loss for words.

“They know me based on how I act on the ship, but there’s a lot they don’t know about my past. They think things that… well I wouldn’t bother to correct them. Things would change if they knew.”

Before Tauriel could ask anything else or express her sympathy, Nori stepped back from her, clapping his hands together.

“You are ready for the evening,” he announced.

Tauriel stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Nori had twisted her hair back and woven it into a neat bun, in which he carefully placed her hairpin. After a pause he loosened a few strands of hair at her temples, which fell past her ears and against the gown. 

“Thank you!” she breathed, turning a little to better see herself from all angles.

With a pleased grin Nori bowed, then stepped away to return his hair brushes to their rightful place.

Outside the sky was slowly turning apricot and pink, the sun setting the few clouds visible through the cabin’s windows ablaze. The first few notes of music were heard from the main deck, laughter and voices of the crew returning. The party seemed to have started even without everyone present.

Tauriel made a step towards the door before pausing and glancing at Nori who’d made to follow her.

“Aren’t you dressing up too?” she asked.

It only earned her a snort and an eyeroll.

“I look gorgeous enough already, thank you very much. Contrary to what my collection over there might make you think, I don’t actually _like_ dancing like a pack of stuck up rich merchants and nobles who have nothing else to do with their life. Not in public at least, and besides, I have no suit.”

He pranced past Tauriel, flicking his braid over his shoulder.

“Now, don’t worry about what I wear, let’s get out before anyone starts having fun without us.”

Some members of the crew were already clearing space on deck, putting away barrels and ropes where possible, and creating a dance floor with space for the musicians among them. Lamps were hung up, in larger numbers than necessary but even with the sun still drowning out most of their light it created a cosy atmosphere.

Not everyone had changed into new clothes. As far as Tauriel could tell it was mostly a trade from loose and work-soiled clothes into vests and shirts made out of fancier materials, with embroidery or pretty cuffs. Bofur hadn’t even done that, instead picking one of his usual shirts but choosing a recently washed one. 

It took a moment before Tauriel spotted her friends, first seeing Sigrid in a blue and grey patterned dress from her home, and then Fíli in what appeared to be his actual mauve and brown court clothes. Only then did she see Kíli, who’d been out of her view.

She called his name, and Kíli turned with a smile. He paused for a moment, eyes wide and shining, his smile twitching into a shyer expression.

“You look lovely,” he said as soon as she was close enough to speak quietly. Kíli’s eyes had flickered over her, but now they were fixed determinedly on her ear.

“You look quite fetching yourself,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound ridiculous.

Kíli’s ears were crimson where they peeked out from his messy hair.

“It’s just one of Fíli’s spare things,” he said, gesturing at his royal blue vest. “It’s a bit wide at my shoulders… Yours looks like- uh.. well it looks like it’s _for you_.”

He seemed nervous about wearing ill-fitting clothes, but he looked quite dashing for all that he’d barely changed. His shirt was a fine one too, though Tauriel recognized it as one he’d bought at a market.

At his side Fíli’s lips curled into a smug smile, but he didn’t say anything as he noticed Tauriel’s pinkening ears.

Slowly the crew gathered on deck, some climbing up into the rigging to make room and because they merely wished to watch and not actually participate in the dancing. Dwalin emerged from his rooms with his violin case in his hands. He was wearing his usual gear, not having bothered with anything but his instrument. 

“What a shame that the Captain and so many others didn’t look for anything,” Tauriel said to the boys, glancing around. “I thought we wanted this to be like a palace dance.” 

In all honesty she was feeling a bit over-dressed.

Fíli waved her off, both he and Kíli glancing at Dwalin with admiration.

“Dwalin doesn’t need all that stuff. He’d be wearing his armour, or some variation of battle-suited things anyway.”

The music finally started getting some cohesion then, the instruments creating the tune of a wild dance and shifting in their pace. Somebody dragged up a gramophone, and as soon as that had been set up everyone followed its lead for a slower, uplifting music.

Fíli moved past them, saying something about wanting to borrow a violin, and nudged Kíli without any subtlety as he went. Kíli glared at him for a moment, then looked off to the side where the sky was already turning a darker blue. Finally he looked back at Tauriel, his eyes shining and smiling widely. He held out his hand and bowed a little.

“Care to join me for a dance?”

*

The Wind Dancer’s deck was filled with laughter and the sound of shuffling feet. None of the crew was taking the ‘ _fancy proper noble dance_ ’ bit of their party seriously, curtsying and bowing in exaggerated gestures. Most of the couples kept squabbling about who would take which position, while others simply took turns. On occasion they would all break up, holding each other’s hands in groups and falling into a jig when the music was changed on the gramophone and the musicians did whatever they wanted.

Tauriel could not say that she minded missing out on trying a waltz; it was far too fun to dance between Sigrid and Kíli, see how Bofur and Lifur were being being charmingly clumsy (though it was unclear whether or not it was on purpose). The few times couples formed for waltzing they wouldn’t move in time to the melody. Only Bombur and Mirra seemed to have gotten the hang of it, but then it seemed as if they were ignoring the music and dancing as they wished, correctly, but also moving so that everyone had to jump out of their way on occasion.

At one point everyone asked Fíli to get up and demonstrate a dance, given that he as the crown prince would have been raised to be perfect at things like this. He’d just leaned back further in his seat, relaxing and waving off.

“Oh, I’ve had more than enough waltzing to last me until the next mandatory court dance,” he told the crew, earning him groans of _‘no fair!’_

“We’re not doing this right, are we now?” Tauriel asked as she was back to dancing with Kíli as her partner.

The hand that held hers twitched a little, in his awkward way of trying to pat it without letting go.

“Nope,” he admitted, when their feet bumped together in a simultaneous misstep that had them both giggling.

“So… your hand… goes here,” Tauriel said, tugging Kíli’s hand to her waist. “And mine…”

“On my shoulder.”

“Oh right.”

They stood for a moment, hoping that it was indeed right, and the crew confirmed with nods and congratulations.

“Now… a step?” Kíli moved just as Tauriel made for the opposite direction, and again they had to stop to giggle.

“No again.”

“Does one of us have to lead?”

“I’m pretty sure I do, but I don’t remember which way…”

“I thought you said they have waltzes back in England.”

“Yeah, but I never said I was good at them!”

“You have to do it like this,” Lifur said as he moved past in Sigrid’s unsure grip.

He tried to demonstrate some steps, nearly falling over when Sigrid briefly moved away before her foot could be trodden on.

“I have not been educated formally but that’s _certainly_ not it,” she scolded, letting go entirely but taking his hand again when he pouted at her.

“Haven’t gotten any education and I’m doing better than my uncle,” he shrugged, to everyone’s laughter and one ‘oi’ from said uncle.

Mirra and Bombur sailed past, glancing at the pair.

“Do it like this,” Mirra called, moving effortlessly in her husband’s lead.

They danced on for one more round across the dance floor, faster than the music, with their tunics fluttering in the wind.

“That’s too quick,” Kíli complained when the two broke apart to stand at the edge of the dance floor.

The crew was now shouting advice at them, trying to get their suggestions through over both the music and each other. It wasn’t very helpful, to say the least.

Tauriel couldn’t help but giggle as Kíli frowned and tried to make out any useful advice. She looked up at the sky, where, despite the low-hanging sun painting the horizon red, the first few stars had started to appear. They were twinkling down, pretty and so far away. What would _they_ say about seeing Tauriel stumble about like this? Some of the older ones would be appalled for sure.

“Let’s try again,” she suggested, very gently taking Kíli’s hand back in hers. 

He smiled at her.

The dance floor was now empty apart from the few who were still swaying a little in their dance, holding each other but more interested in watching and helping out..

Kíli and Tauriel were both looking down, moving carefully and bumping their feet together more often than they managed one elegant cohesive step. Kíli was trying not to sully Tauriel’s dress with his boots, while Tauriel attempted not to step on his own toes. 

“Wait, wait, to the music…”

“Mirra, why do you make it look so _easy_? You made me think it truly is,” Kíli whined.

Fíli was trying not to smile too obviously where he sat. Everyone was having their fun watching the two stumble about though, or had turned to talk to each other. All but Nori, who’d been sitting on a crate at the edge of the dance floor all evening, looking not at all entertained and by now looked positively annoyed.

He was rolling his eyes, face braced against his hand, barely even watching as Kíli and Tauriel briefly thought they’d gotten the hang of it just to need to pause when Tauriel’s heel landed on Kíli’s toe.

“You were supposed to go left!”

“I did!”

“ _My_ left I mean-”

Finally Nori let out an exasperated groan and threw his hands in the air.

“I can’t take it!” He exclaimed, getting up. “You two are hopeless.”

Nori strode towards where the musicians had gathered. Though ignored while dancing, the gramophone had moved on to a slower song, and Dwalin had ignored the dancers in turn as he focused on coaxing the most beautiful melodies from his violin.

The musicians stopped accompanying the recorded music as their first mate reached him, looking up curiously.

A smile played over Nori’s lips as he reached out to take Dwalin’s arm, forcing him to put aside his violin as he was pulled up from his seat.

“Come on Captain,” Nori said, pulling him towards the dance floor. “Let's show these kiddies how it’s supposed to be done.

*

It had been too long since Dwalin had gotten out his violin to just play it delicately, so it was no wonder that he drifted off, unaware of what was going on.

Unaware of anything until slim fingers were wrapping around his arm to pull him up and dragging him towards the dance floor, Dwalin looked up to see his smiling first mate.

“Let’s show these kiddies how it’s supposed to be done!”

Dwalin quickly handed his violin off to Fili and let Nori lead him to the dance floor, unwilling to refuse Nori’s request when he was smiling in that small way he did when he was more clever than somebody else.

The crew made way for them, keeping their distance and staying away from the where the deck was marked as the dance floor. Nori stood in the middle, turning to face Dwalin and placed one hand on his shoulder, leaving Dwalin to take his free hand in his. He assumed the correct position on instinct, remembering the lessons of his youth. It was lucky that he still remembered everything, or else he might have hesitated to place his hand on Nori’s waist and pull him a little closer. He was very warm and small under Dwalin’s hands. 

Nori was smiling earnestly now, eyes on Dwalin, not just eager to teach something, but also pleased about getting to dance. Or so Dwalin hoped.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Kíli and Tauriel were watching, before launching into the demonstration.

“Now Kíli, it’s forward, step left, together, step back, side together. Tauriel, you do the reverse, so when he steps forward and to the left, you step back right…”

The music was a slow and gentle tune, and even without the instruments accompanying it the gramophone was enough for the mood. It was just as good that it was so slow, as Nori started to step in time to it, leaving Dwalin to lead them, moving slow enough to be easy to follow.

“Forward- Step left- Together-“ Nori was narrating their movements.

They were being watched, but it was easy to forget that as they danced to the music, smoothly moving across the deck in a gentle up and down. Dwalin’s lips curled as he tried not to chuckle, easily falling into the dance and watching Nori name each of his steps for the young ones to follow.

It _was_ enjoyable, just dancing like this, and Nori was grinning up at him, lips moving in the steps Dwalin soon drowned out as he moved with the music on his own. He’d always liked that bit about dancing; not the ceremony and the elegance of it, but the simple movement, and the feeling of a partner in his arms.

Soon Nori’s voice grew quieter in reciting the steps, letting the music be their only guide. His smile softened as the melody grew in complexity. Nori’s hand was shifting against Dwalin’s shoulder, positioning it more comfortable against his Captain as Dwalin’s height was getting in the way a little. In turn Dwalin’s hand moved over Nori’s vest, spreading over his back instead.

_Years ago, Nori had walked into the captain’s quarters to find Dwalin pacing, clearly troubled. ‘Stupid bloody court event, can’t wiggle my way out of it,’ Dwalin grumbled before Nori could ask what was wrong, running a hand through his hair. ‘I’ll have to_ dance _and everything.’_

_’I thought you grew up with all that frippery warg-shit?’ said Nori._

_’I CAN dance, but I haven’t in so long and I just don’t like doing it in public, around...other people who know what they’re doing, and have dainty toes I’ll most definitely step on,’ groused Dwalin, in a very un-captainlike fashion, and Nori had an idea._

_‘So what you need is practice?’_

_Dwalin looked up, confusion in his eyes._

_‘Here,’ said Nori, striding right up to Dwalin and putting his hands on his hips. ‘I know enough basic dances. You teach me the steps you need to do, while there are no pompous couriers around, and you can practice not stepping on my toes.’_

_There was no music that time, but Dwalin’s performance at the palace excelled everybody’s expectations._

Now, under the open sky with music playing and the cool air drawing attention to the heat of each other’s bodies… it was a completely different experience.

Nori wasn’t teasing or talking now. His smile was soft as he looked up at Dwalin’s face without breaking eye contact even once, giving him a sweet look he rarely wore when they weren’t in private. Dwalin couldn’t have looked away from him even if he’d tried.

They danced as if they’d never done anything else in their lives, floating over their ship’s deck. There was nothing Dwalin would rather do, nothing but go with the music for all eternity.

Finally Nori averted his eyes, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. He bowed his head a little, and Dwalin could have leaned his cheek against Nori’s hair, if he moved his head towards him only a little more. He noticed the smell of Nori’s hair this close up: the Wind Dancer’s wood and Nori’s own scent, and above that, the subtle hint of jasmine. Just like Nori’s favourite block of soap, as if he’d used it to wash his hair just this morning.

When Nori looked back up his eyes shone like molten gold in the light of the setting sun., they were close enough that Dwalin could count the freckles on his cheeks.

It felt as if something in Dwalin’s chest unravelled and became warm and light, just seeing how _beautiful_ Nori was in the lamplight and sunset, so close and warm against Dwalin’s body, his expression so open and soft. Again Nori looked away, eyes fixed on one of Dwalin’s buttons, smiling the smallest of smiles.

This moment was perfect, pure and simple in its joy and Dwalin wished he could capture it and look at it forever, or even better, never have it end.

Dwalin’s eyes closed.

There was nothing else in the world in that moment, nothing but them.

“Dwalin…”

The words were spoken so softly that it took Dwalin a moment to realize he was being addressed. He didn’t even know how long they’d danced like that, but now Nori had stilled in his movement.

Dwalin blinked, confused to see that the sky was completely dark and starry now, and Nori was glancing up at him. It was suspiciously quiet apart from the wind and their ship’s usual noises.

“The music’s stopped.”

“Oh.”

And Nori was moving away now. Dwalin held on for a moment, trying to keep him close, his mind not quite comprehending why he should let go of Nori’s waist and hand. Why would he? Nori was so good and small and perfect in his arms.

“Well… uh… nice box step, Captain,” Nori said quietly, looking a little unsure himself.

Nori was still holding Dwalin’s hand, even though he’d been released, his other hand sliding off Dwalin’s shoulder to rest against his elbow.

“They should get it now.”

“Get...?” Nori’s hand was still in his, as slow in detracting it as Dwalin was reluctant to let go.

They were meant to demonstrate the dance, weren’t they?

“Oh the steps…”

“Right.”

Nori’s fingers lingered against Dwalin’s hand for a brief moment, before he finally let go and stepped away. His hand curled as Nori rubbed his fingers together lightly, looking down. 

The crew was still watching them, not saying a word. 

He shouldn’t have danced with Nori like that and forgotten where he was, and _who_ he was.

To behave like that with a member of his crew… it wasn’t right of him.

Dwalin took a step back, hoping that his emotions weren’t showing. Nori was staring back at him, his expression strangely vulnerable before he pulled himself together. His usual smirk returned and he broke eye contact, returning his attention to Kíli and Tauriel, who stood at the rail, eyes wide.

“Come on kiddies, let’s try it again.”

They moved obediently as Nori waved them close to guide their stance for the first step. Some others of the crew joined as well, though Dwalin had the feeling that they were watching him. He didn’t look to make sure. No need to dignify that.

He took a few steps backwards, returning to his spot and picking up his violin as somebody restarted the gramophone to play a different song. His fingers felt clumsy as he adjusted his violin, not yet joining the others in playing.

Somehow his heart was twisting a little, the warm feeling in his stomach clashing with nervous knots.

As Dwalin looked up, unsure of how to react to what had just happened, he saw Nori throwing him a furtive glance. His first mate’s cheeks flushed again, as he averted his gaze to pretend nothing had happened.

Dwalin looked at his back for a moment, before raising the violin to rest on his shoulder and joining the melody.

He had made a mistake in... doing anything really, but he knew Nori loved the sound of his violin, and he could at least get _this_ right by playing as well as he could. 

*

“You were right about Nori and the Captain .”

The covert whisper made Tauriel barely suppress a giggle and caused her to misstep. Not on Kíli’s foot this time, so he grinned along with her.

They were slowly getting the hang of how to do the waltz’s steps properly, under Nori’s guidance. He’d been good at explaining, once the entire crew had gotten over the shock of him and Dwalin suddenly being so openly intimate in front of everyone. Kíli had to admit that he saw what the crew was complaining about now, which led him to wonder about some other occasions in the past.

By now more of the crew had returned to dance, and Nori had left Kíli and Tauriel alone, instead sitting back down on the crate he’d occupied before. He was feigning nonchalance, pretending to watch and judge everyone’s steps, though it was clear that his attention would return to watching Dwalin over and over again.

Slowly their dancing improved and Kíli didn’t feel too foolish about trying to be elegant. They were _supposed_ to look to the side as they floated over the deck, and out of the corner of his eye Kíli could see how Fíli had stopped grinning at their clumsiness and instead looked quite proud watching them. He didn’t even look as if he was about to tease them, or urge Kíli on to say something.

With a pleased smile Kíli squeezed Tauriel’s hand in his, and she returned the gesture, lips twitching as she resisted looking at Kíli.

Despite himself Kíli couldn’t help but glance back to Tauriel over and over again. Her hair was shining a little now, matching the silver of the stars above her.

“You look beautiful…” he whispered without thinking, a little in awe, and felt his cheeks heat up as Tauriel looked at him.

“Not that you don’t look beautiful usually… because you do, you look beautiful most of the time in fact!”

The shine of Tauriel’s hair grew stronger as she turned her head to look at him. She was smiling now, unable to hide her joy. Her cheeks had grown slightly pink at the praise.

“Well thank you, good sir,” she said, indicating a curtsy without stumbling over her steps but nearly making Kíli do so.

Kíli’s heart was pounding in his chest. He might seem like a fool now, but Tauriel didn’t mind, Tauriel was laughing and enjoying herself…

“You shine, did you notice that?” he asked in a whisper, trying to hide his smile and distract himself from his fluttering heartbeat.

Tauriel laughed, loud and clear and very much at ease.

“Well of course, I’m a _star_ ,” she replied quietly, as if this was the most obvious answer. “And what do stars do best?”

Her foot bumped against Kíli’s again, not hard, but right where her heel had already left a bruise.

“Certainly not _waltzing_ ,” he jabbed, and Tauriel nudged him in the shoulder in protest.

As if to prove him wrong Tauriel nudged Kíli’s hand up to rest on her shoulder to put her own on his waist, reversing their roles and putting her in the leading position. It took a few moments to get their steps in order but Tauriel led Kíli sure as they danced on. 

Countless stars twinkled above and around them, but Kíli had eyes for only on one for the rest of the night. 

*

The party stretched on well until midnight before the crew slowly started to leave to return to their hammocks. It had been fun, and such an event would have stretched on for hours and hours if this were a proper one, in a palace or stately home. But the crew of the Wind Dancer would have to navigate the ship in any possible situation that could come up, so everyone wished to be well rested.

Few had remained, sitting up in the crow’s nest on duty or near the helm to play cards. A few lamps had been left burning, and along with the pale moonlight it created the illusion of the Wind Dancer being completely still, giving them privacy. The only noise the remaining crew made, a reminder of their presence, was a solitary flute playing a calm melodious tune somewhere up in the rigging.

Kíli and Tauriel had wandered to the bow, looking ahead into the open sky and the low fluffy clouds moving past. Arda was a quilt of dark blue and silver ground below, beautiful and serene.

Their hands were side by side on the rail, Kíli’s pinkie finger very lightly brushing against Tauriel’s. 

“I’m going to miss this,” Kíli said, meaning both the quiet relaxed moment after a night of fun with the crew, and the sight before them.

“Is this what stars see every night?”

“A little like it, yes.”

“I’m jealous then.”

Tauriel turned, light catching in her hairpin so that Kíli noticed it from the corner of his eye.

“Why? It was pretty, but I much prefer watching the ground like this, next to you. It’s a very different and wonderful kind of joy.”

Kíli’s ears felt hot at the comment, and he desperately tried to hide the smile that spread at it. She saw it anyway, judging by the quiet laugh.

He dared moving his fingers a little, wrapping his hand around Tauriel’s over the rail. She pushed her fingers further, encouraging him.

“Is this ok?” he dared ask. Somehow this simple gesture felt terribly intimate, and Kíli didn’t know if it was right to just go ahead and touch Tauriel’s hand.

“Of course… if you like it too?”

They stood like that without saying a word for a while, listening to the wind and the creaking of wood around them. It was comfortable and quiet like this, giving Kíli the chance to enjoy the moment and wait for his heart to stop fluttering and his cheeks to stop feeling so hot. His blush seemed to go away after a while, but his heart simply would not calm.

The notes of the flute continued to drift from the other side of the ship, barely audible.

Slowly, Kíli dared to turn around to lean against the rail. He didn’t let go of Tauriel’s hand, twining his fingers with hers as she turned to look at him with a smile.

He took a deep breath, wondering if the star would be able to hear his heartbeat in the silent night before pushing the thought aside and gathering his courage.

“I like you,” he said, not blushing this time, mercifully, though perhaps Tauriel wouldn’t have seen it in the dark either way.

“I mean… you know I like you, but… I really like being with you, and I like how just thinking about you is enough to warm and lighten my heart.”

He felt awkward, unsure and clumsy, but Tauriel was watching him with an open and sincere expression of quiet encouragement, and she wouldn’t think him a fool for stumbling over his words. She was not that kind of person. 

“You’re my best friend!” he pushed on, “but not only that, you’re other things to me, besides a friend, or a companion, or even the magical creature I crashed into on accident - I apologise for that, again. I like you… I like you this way too.”

He let out a nervous chuckle and ran his hand through his hair to gather his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know how to go about this.”

Tauriel reached out to gently brush an escaping strand of hair back behind Kíli’s ear. She looked unsure though, and for a moment that was worrying.

"Kili… you came to Arda for someone else, is this really what you want?"

‘ _That is her concern?_ ’

"I came to Arda and I found a star. And… while I still care for the boy back home, I…I…care very, very much for the person I found on my travels too. Because she stands by me even when I’m not at my best, and never asks for more than what I can give, yet I’d give everything in my power to make her happy. And besides...she’s seen me in my smallclothes."

The way Tauriel’s lips twitched and her eyes shone made Kíli’s heart clench. Was she as nervous about this as he was then?

“I must not have realized that I could even fancy girls as well as boys. But I _do_. Fancy you that is.”

He paused for a moment, trying not to avert his eyes.

“I would be _most_ honoured for a wonderful, kind and fierce person such as you to fancy me too.”

Perhaps it was the moonlight, but for a moment it seemed as if there was a faint glow to all of Tauriel, flickering over her hair and skin before being gone as soon as it came.

Her hand squeezed Kíli’s a little, and she watched him for a few moments, perhaps waiting for something, and Kíli’s cheeks were heating up again, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

“Would you kiss me?” she asked, lips quirking.

Kíli was _sure_ his heart must have stopped for a moment. He wouldn’t have known how to ask, but he _did_ want to, very much so.

“Yes, o-of course, sure!” he breathed, and Tauriel raised her hand to cradle the side of his face.

He leaned up, and Tauriel bowed her head a little, tilting Kíli’s to the side, and then her lips were against his, soft and warm.

Kíli’s eyes fell shut as he reached for Tauriel’s arm to hold on to her somehow. 

They broke apart with a gentle sound, looking at each other as if in a daze, before the moment broke and they burst out in giggles. 

“So… this is how… how we are now?” Tauriel asked, touching her lips with her now-glowing fingertips. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Kíli looked at their clasped hands for a moment, smiling at the situation.

“Can I ask for something?”

“Of course!” Tauriel replied, looking at him curiously.

“Can we do that again? I think we need more practice if this is to become official?”

Tauriel burst out laughing again; looking away for a second, before turning back, radiating pure starlight.

“Yes,” she said, and leaned down to kiss Kíli once more. 

*

The sky at night was a significantly colder place to be without the warmth of the sun. Nori did not mind the chill tonight though; instead it made him feel so much more _alive_ , so much more aware of everything around him.

He’d stuck around on deck after the dance, sitting on a comfortable seat comprised of two barrels and spare sail material. Soft and out of the way and most important of all, hidden. It had given him time to think, time to watch unnoticed and unbothered. He’d tried to calm down, had tried to reason with himself and sort out the jumbled thoughts in his head.

Futile, given how _sure_ Nori was of what his thoughts and feelings meant, and how they were true even if they seemed sudden. They weren’t even that, it had just taken an absurdly long time to _understand_ …

It was a little funny, that a dance by chance was what made him recognize that he was deeply, hopelessly in love. That it was his Captain, of all people and completely unsurprising, who could only be described as the love of Nori’s life.

He’d giggled helplessly into the flask of mead he’d stolen from the galley, as he turned the realisation over and over in his mind. He’d _known_ how much Dwalin meant to him, he’d known that Dwalin was the sort of man Nori would desire, emotionally and physically or any other way there was.

The feeling had been warm and steady, and so completely comforting that Nori had not thought to link it to the usual passion and lust and desperate want he associated with being in love.

It had taken a dance…

A dance to realize how Dwalin wanted him too, how all those little things they’d done for each other, all the little touches and secrets they’d shared… he was in love, and his Captain loved him back.

Very few of his fellows were on deck now, apart from those who were on duty and the kids standing at the bow, though Nori suspected that neither Kíli nor Tauriel had any mind to pay attention to him, their eyes glued to each other. 

‘ _How cute._ ’

He took one last tiny sip from his mead, before getting up smoothly and moving from shadow to shadow as quietly as he could.

Dwalin hadn’t mingled with anyone after their dance, but Nori had watched him step behind the stairs leading up to the helm, and he had not left there since. He was leaning his forearms against the rail, as Nori approached, watching the ground stretch below.

“That party was a success, I’d wager,” Nori stated, slipping in the small space between the stairs and the rail, leaning against it at Dwalin’s side.

The Captain hummed in agreement, glancing at Nori briefly before returning his gaze to the land below.

Nori stretched his back a little, relaxing against the rail. They were very close, silently enjoying the serene view below. He’d always loved night time on the Wind Dancer, the way they could relax, and maybe speak quietly as Dwalin pointed out things below and Nori would tell stories of where he’d been before joining the crew.

“I enjoyed that waltz,” Nori went on with a little smile as he recalled the way Dwalin’s hands felt on him. As he imagined how Dwalin’s hands would feel holding him in different occasion besides dancing. 

“Might be I wouldn’t even mind dancing in a proper fancy palace ball with you, if it’s this fun.”

“You wouldn’t enjoy it,” Dwalin rumbled. His voice was always so quiet when they stood on deck at night, when the moment didn’t call for speaking loudly. “Though I daresay you’d be entertained enough by the amount of jewellery to steal and plotting how to take it from those who annoy you.”

Nori laughed, the comforting feeling Dwalin’s presence always caused spreading in his chest.

“You know me too well, how am I to be the elusive thief that I am with you here?”

Dwalin glanced at him but didn’t reply. He seemed lost in thought, and Nori sobered up, his cheeks still dimpling in a small smile.

“Would you like dance with me like that again? Sometime?”

“I don’t think we should do that.”

He looked a little uncomfortable and Nori resisted the urge to place his hand on Dwalin’s arm to put him at ease. Maybe he was embarrassed about showing his feelings in front of the entire crew. He’d never been a man to enjoy all eyes on him, used to that happening at court when duty called for his presence among stiff nobles. 

“Then… we won’t dance like that. But something happened there, between us, and it’s been building for a long time, hasn’t it? I know you felt it too, I saw how you looked at me, even afterwards.”

Dwalin was everything to him, had been everything before Nori even would have thought to name it ‘love’.

Dwalin had not seen Nori at his very worst, as his sisters had, but he knew of it, and he still cared. He knew of Nori’s secrets, even those who guarded from anyone else. He was a good man, better and more honest than Nori could have ever dreamed of all those years ago, nearly too good and making Nori better himself…

It’d been too long since Nori felt such things for anyone, and perhaps the first time when he truly _trusted_ the recipient with such feelings.

“I’d love to deepen that, go on and see what we’d be like. How it would be to be _together_ , you and me.”

Nori put a hand on Dwalin’s, running it over Dwalin’s fingers and up to curl it around Dwalin’s wrist.

Dwalin stiffened, jaw clenching a little.

“I can’t.”

Nori leaned his head to the side, searching Dwalin’s face and trying to make out his expression in the dark and with Dwalin still turned away from him.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not like that… _can’t_ be like that. I didn’t mean to make you think so. I’m sorry for that.”

Nori’s fingers stroked over Dwalin’s forearm, gently, soothingly. Dwalin seemed worried, somehow. He was tensing up and speaking the same way he did when there was too much on his mind, and a gentle touch and quiet moment tended to relax him each time.

“Then what was that back there? I know what I saw, I know what I felt-“

“That was a mistake!”

Dwalin’s snap had been sudden, and Nori stilled, taken aback by the small outburst.

“It was unprofessional, and I know I should not have done so with a member of my crew, with the rest of them watching at that,” Dwalin went on, quieter this time. He was looking at Nori now, troubled with guilt in his eyes.

“I should have realized how it would seem in anyone’s eyes. I didn’t think how it would be taken while I did it, I’m sorry I let it go this far.”

The world around felt a little sharper, a little less safe as Nori took it in. The quiet melody of the flute had stopped by then, and the ship was silent.

Had he mistaken Dwalin’s comfort and mood so easily? Had that not been tenderness in Dwalin’s eyes, and joy in his touch? Nori knew that Dwalin felt a great deal of affection for him, knew that Dwalin had taken the occasional lover over the years, that he had a preference for lads over lasses too. Nori had taken it to mean that there was a higher chance Dwalin wanted a relationship with _him_ as well.

“My mistake,” Nori said, voice soft as he tried to overplay his disappointment and his fingers stopped moving against Dwalin’s arm. “If I saw wrong, I won’t bring it up again.”

If Dwalin didn’t want this, he would respect that, embarrassing as this was… perhaps one day Dwalin might like to try, even if he’d not developed romantic intentions over their ten years of friendship…

Nori had never enjoyed one night stands, had never liked how he would inevitably feel the day after even the best lay in all of Arda, craving emotional closeness along with the physical. But it would be different with Dwalin; better to have him once, be held and kissed and pleasured just this one time than not have it at all. Besides, he already was so close to Dwalin, he would remain emotionally intimate as before no matter what, and what was a little tumble among friends? It would not end badly, even if Nori would yearn quietly.

“You know-“ Nori purred, stepping a little closer and dragging his hand up to rest against Dwalin’s chest. “This has been _such_ a good night, and even with my little mistake there we can find a way for it to end nicely too.”

Dwalin was watching him, eyes wide, a little surprised, like many were when Nori started to flirt in such a manner.

“You don’t want this to be anything important, yes? So how about a little tumble in your quarters? Nice and slow in that nice big bed, or rough and fast if you prefer, no strings attached and no questions asked tomorrow morning.” 

Nori had expected many things; a pleased agreement, embarrassment, disbelief maybe. Not the sneer on Dwalin’s lips, not the pang of fear - of what he didn’t know.

“You think I would _bed you_?” Dwalin snapped. “I don’t sleep with members of my _crew_.”

He batted Nori’s hand away, but Nori didn’t back off, bristling.

“I thought I was more than that to you. We share our work and meals and all of our free time, you lace up my Mahal-damned _dresses_ \- Forgive me, _sir_ , I didn’t think that my Captain would mind lowering himself to my level. I did not know he thought me to be nothing more than just an employee among many.”

“I’m not _lowering_ myself, it’s not about what you are!” Dwalin growled. 

“Then why do you bring that up as the one reason you don’t want me? What’s wrong with just a fuck if we’re equal?” Nori hissed back at him, not believing a word. 

There was confusion and disbelief on Dwalin’s face as he stared down at Nori, not saying a single word. The judgement was heavy in the air, and Nori felt as if he was young and _nothing_ again.

"Nori...please, you have to understand, I didn't mean-" Dwalin tried. 

With his last courage, Nori begged, “say you don't want me, even the slightest bit, tell me to _my face_ and I'll leave. But all of these excuses are a load of shit to me until you can prove that what we shared on that dance floor wasn't real. That you don’t _want_ me at least.” 

At that Dwalin looked pained, closing his eyes and running a hand over his face. His mouth twisted, whether in anger or disgust or something else, Nori couldn’t tell in the dark. 

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the kind to suggest something like this… I must not know you very well after all.”

It was spoken so quietly, so calmly after the brief burst of anger, and Nori felt like he would surely choke on the pain and despair that welled up at Dwalin saying that.

“ _Tell me_ , he demanded.

Dwalin looked at him for just a moment longer, before pushing past Nori and disappearing without a word. His steps clicked over the planks and the brief creaking of a door let Nori know that he’d disappeared back to his quarters.

The night felt icy and forbidding now, making Nori shiver with more than just the cold. He wanted his coat, something warm and nice, but it still hung by the side of his closet, in Dwalin’s rooms. He could not go there, he wouldn’t dare-

Shaking, Nori made one stumbling step towards the rail, hands clawing at the wood as he searched for purchase and leaned against it heavily. His braid slid off his shoulder and hung past his face as he bowed his head, but Nori paid no attention as he stood quietly, staring down at the world and not daring to move for half an eternity. He stayed in the cold, until his body felt as numb as his mind, and didn’t make a sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hattie lets everyone know that she quite misses waltzing.  
> and I miss her trying to teach me as I stumble into everything and everyone because I have no sense of rhythm at all


	42. On Foot Again

On his last day aboard the Wind Dancer, Kíli was called to Dwalin’s office. 

Tomorrow morning they planned to dock near a small fishing village. It was a little remote from the bigger cities of Erebor, but not too far from other settlements in the north of the country. It would be as good a starting point for their journey as any, and Fíli had seen no reason to remain on the Wind Dancer if they could wander on safely.

Kíli would miss the ship for sure. But perhaps it would be nice to be gone for a while, just now.

After the party and the kiss (which had led to quite a few more kisses), it had been quite evident that something had happened between him and Tauriel, with the crew knowing right the next day. Maybe somebody had seen, (they hadn’t exactly been hidden away after all), or maybe it was just the change in attitude, and how they looked at each other and stayed even closer together than before.

The result had all been good-natured teasing, jokes and comments about how cute they were together. Still it was just a little bit embarrassing, and Kíli was glad for getting away for a while. Just for long enough to figure things out, to be sure of how exactly he and Tauriel would be together now. At least Fíli didn’t tease him, though Kíli often caught him stoically looking elsewhere with lips pursed in effort not to smile. Tauriel, still glowing faintly, seemed to take everything in stride, which was just as well; at least one of them had to be able to.

When Kíli entered the Captain’s office Dwalin was at his large desk, stacks of paper on one end, and his ship’s navigation tools on the other. The light was streaming in through the windows behind him, pleasantly illuminating the room.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?”

Dwalin looked up as Kíli approached the desk, and reached over to some small purses sitting between his paperwork.

“I did. Since you will be leaving the ship soon, I felt like it’s best if I give you your pay now.”

He placed the purse in front of Kíli, the coins clinking.

Kíli’s cheeks heated a little, but he managed a “thank you, Sir.”

Dwalin placed a small piece of parchment on the desk by the purse, indicating where Kíli was supposed to confirm that he’d received them.

“You will be wandering across the countryside with no clear goal ahead,” Dwalin said as Kíli took a quill and ink to scribble his name on the parchment.

“It could be dangerous, for many reasons. But I couldn’t ask for better company for Fíli.”

Kíli tried to keep a smile off his face.

“What could Tauriel and I do if things get bad though? In case of an ambush we wouldn’t be that much help.”

“I’ve seen you with a sword, and her with her blades. You’ve gotten much better and I have confidence that between you three your skills and wit are more than enough to keep you safe. You’re talented, you know.”

“Enough to be safe?”

“I trained you, after all. I see no use in sugar-coating shortcomings.”

This time Kíli beamed at Dwalin. To have the one who taught him and whom he respected so much confirm that he’d done a good job was the best validation he could ever hope for.

“I will watch out for them as best I can,” he promised.

Tauriel had told him that both Nori and Dwalin knew of her being a star, so he wanted to make sure Dwalin could trust him with looking after her and the prince equally.

Dwalin leaned back in his chair as Kíli reached for the coin purse. It took him a moment to stash it away, and when Kíli looked up Dwalin’s attention had drifted away.

He was looking at something on his desk, and for a moment Kíli wasn’t sure what Dwalin was reaching for. Shifting just a little bit he saw something behind the ink bottle, a small fox figurine Dwalin was nudging with his finger. Instead of just sitting still like a figurine was supposed to the fox moved much like a real animal. It was cute, but Dwalin looked so exhausted looking at it. He had dark circles under his eyes, Kíli noticed, and must have worked too much to even let it show in a quieter moment.

“That’s a funny figurine,” Kíli said cheerfully, somehow feeling like Dwalin needed some sort of distraction. “I didn’t see it last time I was in here.”

Dwalin let out a huff of air as if he wanted to laugh.

“I’ve had it for a while now, got it from… it’s from the small thieves’ market, the first you saw, right?”

Dwalin’s face had twisted briefly as he spoke, though Kíli wasn’t sure what might have caused it. Dwalin withdrew his hand, and the fox trotted over the desk to curl up in an open locket.

“Should you ever grow tired of wandering, you can always return to the Wind Dancer,” Dwalin told Kíli before he could ask anything else.

“You are always welcome to join my crew, and Tauriel as well. You are good workers. Just send a raven, or find us in Belegost, and we’ll take you on right away. I mean it.”

Kíli bowed formally in gratitude.

“Thank you! We will, if we can.”

He really meant it, he found. Somehow the Wind Dancer had grown to be like a second home, and though he wanted to wander, and return to England at least for a bit, he _did_ want to be on the ship as well. Maybe when the wanderlust was gone.

Dwalin returned the smile, looking a little less tired as he did so.

“Good lad.”

He picked up the quill again.

“Would you call Tauriel in as well? She should take her wage now too.”

Kíli nodded and turned to leave the Captain’s office, wondering if he’d ever get a chance to return to that place again.

*

The Wind Dancer had docked near a tall hill once more, right above a river that merged with multiple smaller streams until it became a broad stream that entered in a lake a few miles off.

The village on its bank wasn’t as small as some others Kíli had seen on their travels; it had a proper wall and gates and lots of people stopping their work to look at the ship. Quite a few merchants and fishers had greeted the crew, already bringing out the wares they knew sailors often bought here. It wasn’t the best place for proper trade, especially not compared to the bigger towns further down the stream, but they sold supplies cheaply, and received goods from all of Erebor’s corners cheap as well.

It was here that Fíli intended to start his journey.

The entire crew had gathered around the prince and the two who would accompany him, looking happy or sad and sighing about how they should hurry back. Bofur had even taken off his hat to press against his chest in exaggerated sorrow.

Kíli’s pack was heavier than the bag he’d brought on his quest, but he felt a little more comfortable about the sword on his hip (a gift from the Captain), knowing he could use it better. Fíli was dressed in simple but sturdy clothes that wouldn’t make Kíli think he could be a prince, but Fíli insisted that people wouldn’t doubt him should he claim to be one. Tauriel had voiced relief in already having nice and sturdy boots, along with more sensible travel clothes for once.

“Don’t go touching any more strange animals,” Lifur insisted as he handed Kíli as small flute he’d carved.

“I promise. Nothing that can hurt _me_ at least, I’m far too formidable with my new rugged charm,” Kíli replied with a wink and was shoved in the shoulder.

Óin had given each of them bandages and supplies just in case, and Bombur had stepped up with Mirra to hand them treats for the way.

“You will find a lot in the open at this time of year. But never forget to buy more food.”

Nori had snuck up and nearly startled Kíli with a whispered “take care lad, I know you’re clever enough to handle anything out there.”

It was a very nice compliment coming from him. Nori also stopped to give Tauriel a whetstone and a small cleaning set to take care of her knives’ blades, before he sauntered off to lean against the rail as far from the others as the small deck allowed.

The entire crew was on deck now. It nearly felt a little silly, standing there with Fíli and Tauriel, all three with coats and packs on their backs, ready to go on another adventure.

Dwalin had come to quietly speak to Fíli before he clasped both Kíli and Tauriel’s shoulders.

“Take this with you,” he said, and handed Kíli a hard tube of leather. “It’s lightning for the three of you. Trade it, or use it if need be, or do what you will.”

All three thanked him, and Dwalin stood a little straighter. 

“I wish you fair travels,” he announced, loud enough for the crew to hear and to be clear over the muttered well wishes behind him. “And may our paths cross soon.”

“Thank you for everything,” Tauriel told him, and with a wave all three turned to leave the ship.

Kíli thought about how different this was from the dramatic and dangerous entrance Tauriel and he had made on the Wind Dancer. It was quite different from the start of his very first proper adventure too, which had been started with magic. Now, they were simply walking into the next part of their adventure.

Down at the foot of the hill the three stopped for a moment, and Fíli turned to look at his companions.

“Where to now?” Tauriel asked, with one hand on her bag’s strap and the other on one of her knives.

Fíli grinned and looked out to the paths leading from the village, some to the north, some to the river, and others away from the direction where the big towns lay. Kíli saw him taking something out of his pocket and holding it loosely in his fist. Rune stones, covered in tiny markings.

“Let’s find out!” the prince said, and threw the small polished stones up into the air.


	43. To the Stars and Back

The polished carved stones landed with a soft clatter in Lawara’s outstretched hand. Thorin leant forward in his chair, resisting the urge to twist his braid between his fingers as the mage frowned at the stones. It was a nervous habit from when he was a prince, but a king could not show such behaviours before his council.

“The Arkenstone is… moving,” she said slowly, and before the King and assembled advisors could cheer, she added “towards the borders of Erebor, away from the heartland.”

Thorin let out a frustrated groan and slammed his fist onto the table. The others had the good grace not to flinch, though they shared worried glances amongst themselves.

“Then Fíli does not have it,” growled Thorin, pinching the bridge of his nose. He berated his foolish heart for actually holding out hope that the stone’s sudden movements meant his nephew had succeeded so soon.

The runes were giving less and less useful information regarding the Arkenstone the more they were used. It was as if their knowledge and magic was simple sliding off the stone’s surface. Even Lawara was finding it increasingly difficult to make sense of them each time she was called in to see how Thorin’s nephew was faring.

“But if Fíli does not have it…” prompted Lord Nim, to Thorin’s right.

“Then someone else does.” 

The words rang unanimous around the table, the weight of the situation settling like a heavy cloak the moment they were uttered. Everyone glanced around nervously, not daring to meet the King’s eye.

“But nobody knows what it _is_ , do they? It will neither shine nor cast any magic until one of royal blood reclaims it,” remarked Lady Lazui of the Iron Hills. 

‘ _Thank Mahal for that,_ ’ thought Thorin, though out loud he said, “most likely a peddler picked it up thinking it a simple trinket, and is using it as part of his wares.”

Nobody commented on how frail that notion of hope was. It seemed so unlikely that the stone had ended up with one of innocent intentions. Not with their luck.

“At least we can be certain of it not being Orcs,” said Lawara, returning her runes to their special velvet pouch. “They may be formidable in numbers but they’d hardly pay any mind to a bauble even if they did come across one. The only looting on their part in the last war was on behalf of Smaug, and they would have no interest in a dull old thing for themselves.”

“You’re right,” Thorin nodded. “And even if they did see the Arkenstone fall, they probably thought it was a star like everyone else. I doubt they have interest in such things.”

“Especially when they have better things to do, like dying upon Ereborean swords,” one of the lords threw in, which prompted a small chuckle from a few of the others.

Hopefully, mused Thorin, if the Orcs _did_ pay attention to the sky and took an interest in fallen stars, they would spend their time chasing a mythical creature instead of Erebor’s magic relic, thus giving Fíli more time.

“What news from the borders? Are there requests for more troops?” he asked instead, transitioning to the next issue at hand.

Captain Itîm at the end of the table pulled out a handful of reports from her jacket and spread them out before Thorin.

“I’m afraid they are, your majesty. The Orcs are growing bolder, there are reports of smaller groups being sighted close to the border and a little into no-man’s-land. We can attribute destroyed properties, damaged roads and slain cattle, here-” she tapped the large map of the country spread out on the table, “-here, and here. There have been attacks on travelers and caravans, more frequently and closer to secure roads than usual.”

“When was this?” demanded Thorin, snatching up a report to skim over.

“The most recent was a week ago, my liege, but widespread unrest has been growing for the last two months or so. People are fearful and do not know whether to fight or flee deeper into the country. None of the Orc packs sighted had been larger than the usual scouts, and it isn’t clear whether we are dealing with several, or one unusually bold group traveling along our border in search for some kind of prey or glory.”

A murmur rose at the table as everyone shifted in their chairs to catch a glimpse at the map or read through some of the reports. Anger seemed to be the main emotion at the table that moment, though Thorin was certain to see and hear fear in them as well. 

“Is there a pattern to these attacks?” Asked Lady Lazui.

“No, and they didn’t seem to be moving closer the capital, at least not until the most recent attacks. They’re staying put for some reason, merely moving along the border.”

“No attempts at doing anything funny?”

“None, sir. There have been theories that they are simply running from their old settlements in some Orcish territory dispute, or that they want to reach the other side of Ered Mithrim without actually crossing the mountains”

“If there’s so few, then surely a couple of warriors would be enough to deal with them?” one of the Lords asked, stroking his beard with a raised eyebrow. 

Itîm shook her head. 

“Most caravans are hiring more sell-swords now, but it is the farmers and smaller settlements that can’t protect their lands. They can hold a weapon to protect themselves against small ambushes, but they can’t spread out to protect their farmlands safely, or keep an eye on all fishers and foresters and all those who must leave the safety of their towns to make a living.”

Again the council’s worry was apparent. Thorin clenched his fist over his knee subtly, as he tried not to think of how similar this issue was to the last war. It had been those villagers and townspeople who’d suffered first, back then, with the army not being able to catch every group of Orcs on time. 

The stretch of land unsafe for Erebor’s people had increased too soon, too much, with too many Orcs working together for once, and a dragon at their side. So many had ran with nothing but their clothes and their children in their arms, unable to even find a place to stay in safety, and so many of them had joined Thrór’s army, warriors and inexperienced young ones alike. So many had died. 

If this was repeating...

“Do the reports contain any mentions of…” Lord Nim trailed off. The dreaded name _Azog_ hung heavy and rancid in the air.

A sneer pulled at the corners of Thorin’s mouth. Only the sound of Lawara’s shifting shawl distracted him from the angry growl he wanted to make. 

“No, bless the Maker,” he said instead, looking over the reports again. “These are all grubs of Orcs, dangerous only in their number.”

“Nevertheless, having an armies on our northern borders on alert and ready to intervene will make me rest easier.”

Thorin looked up at Captain Itîm, who still stood before him awaiting any further orders or questions. 

“Write to all generals within five days of the border, and instruct them to be on alert. Let larger groups of soldiers move on the road between any village that is in danger, in such intervals that they can both protect and hurry to help as many people as possible.”

Thorin looked away from the eyes resting on him briefly, wishing more than anything for Dwalin at his side, to have the comfort of the presence of somebody who had lived with him through the last war. Or Balin, for the same experience and his wise words. Or even Fíli, to have the reminder of what he had not lost and what he would fight for, if it came to that. 

He only had Lawara there though, who was as close to a parent as it was possible for him to have. Though she often made him feel like a young lad again, catching him playing pranks with Dwalin, she also had a calm about her that made Thorin feel a little less tense. He sometimes wondered if it was a spell she wove around her, a small cloud of calm wherever she went. 

“It is unlikely that this is a situation like that of twenty years ago,” Thorin addressed the council again, speaking loud and clear and knowing that he could put enough confidence in his voice to soothe them, and even make himself believe in it. “But let it not be said that we are reckless and let our defenses slack. What word have we of Lord Dáin’s situation?”

This was spoken to Lady Lazui. She quickly glanced at the small sheet of parchment before her, though Thorin knew she’d memorize any bit of information and correspondence by heart anyway. She was not one to let go of any rumor or word she heard, which made her a useful Iron Hills ambassador. 

“Lord Dáin has not reported anything unusual on Erebor’s borders that are under his protection. He mentions how the people of Dale and Esgaroth are as ever, their lives are unchanged though he has some… _choice words_ for their merchant rulers who downsized the army in favour of making money in other areas. If anything happens to them, he’ll have to use Erebor’s resources to help. He _did_ write that he will send his soldiers at a moment’s notice should we need them, and to let him know how many.”

Thorin nodded. 

“Good. It would be enough to have him dispatch a few North-Eastern troops as reinforcement for the North border for now, but let him know that he should be ready to have an army sent.”

The Lady nodded and quickly noted down something on her parchment to compose a proper letter after the meeting. 

“Any other matters to discuss?” Thorin asked. Usually somebody would bring up a long-dismissed matter or a petty feud, but today none of his council decided to rise and speak. 

“Then you are dismissed.”

His council stood and bowed as they gathered their things and left the meeting room. 

“You can go now as well, Captain, thank you,” he told Itîm, who bowed her head and left him with the reports. 

Thorin finally let out a sigh and slumped a little in his chair. 

“You must entertain the possibility that this is a trap,” Lawara said quietly, moving so that she stood more in front of Thorin than at his side, making it easier to look up at her. “Those Orcs are not trying to cause enough damage to truly worry, and they are not pushing forward. It is not something they would normally do.”

“I know. I can’t imagine what pushes them to this; I can only hope they have their own issues to flee from.”

Lawara’s golden eyes were fixed on Thorin, unmoving until he bowed his head to her. 

“I will not join the army, or even come close to the front, until there is more than rumor of a possible attack. I won’t endanger myself unless necessary, promise.”

She nodded, satisfied with that. 

“I know you won’t rush into anything, but I feel like I should remind everyone when they just might do something-”

“I have an entire Kingdom to take care of, not just one border. I merely will be on alert.”

Lawara nodded again, before she adjusted her shawl and stepped to the large windows of the council room, looking up at the sky. 

Thorin slumped a little more, wishing for time to spar or visit one of the royal rookeries. He considered going to visit the ravens, but something told him that he was probably expected somewhere very soon. Perhaps he could rest after the day’s duties were over. 

Satisfied with that small hope, he gathered the maps and reports, though a small part of Thorin knew that he would not rest easy until Fíli was safely back in the capital, and the Arkenstone restored to its old power and rightful place. 

 

*

Night had fallen over the land, with only a small sliver of orange at the horizon, barely visible behind the trees. The sky was clear above, with the stars already out, and their small campfire below was warming them well, now that the cooking pot was off.

The travels were different than when Tauriel had first wandered the ground with Kíli. It was so much closer to autumn now, and the land was different as well. They weren’t following streams and rivers, instead wandering along actual paths and roads. Instead of flat land and thick woods there were vibrant green hills, and even mountains sometimes visible when the weather was really good.

They’d found mushrooms to add to the beans Fíli had cooked for them, and even set out a few traps to be checked in the morning. Now, though, it was time for a rest, and all three travellers settled down to relax.

Kíli added more branches to the fire, and fiddled with a small block of wood he’d been whittling, while Fíli had already made himself comfortable in his bedroll and frowned down at the small runestones he carried. Usually they talked in the evenings, and while they walked, but right now all three were quiet. Tauriel practiced twirling her knives and glanced at what the prince was doing.

“Those runestones,” Tauriel asked after a while of observing how Fíli picked them up and cast them over and over. “What are they for?”

Fíli looked up from where he’d just picked up the stones once more. He looked at Tauriel for a moment, as if he hadn’t quite heard.

“Oh… they are common runestones. I’m just trying to use them to determine where I should go.”

“And are they helping?”

Kíli had looked up too now, curious about the stones as well. Fíli had cast them several times in the past days, and on the very first moment they had left the Wind Dancer. He never kept it a secret or tried to hide how the stones fell, but he also didn’t bother translate what he saw in them.

Now he shook his head and pulled a face.

“Usually these stones are quite good at pointing out a direction if you know what you are looking for. But right now they are useless!”

As if to prove his point Fíli let the stones fall with a flick of his wrist.

“See?” he asked, pointing at the way they’d fallen down. “This means precisely nothing. It started ever since we left the Wind Dancer. First they did give confusing directions, but now they just don’t answer.”

He frowned down on them once more, and Kíli shrugged.

“Do you _need_ them to decide where to go?”

“Perhaps not, but it’s much harder to find what I was sent to look for without a clear direction.”

All three stared at the stones for a little longer.

“What exactly _is_ it you’re looking for?” she asked, as Fíli picked the runestones back up to put them away in his pocket.

“That’s a secret,” he replied enigmatically, though he still smiled about it.

“How big a secret can it be if you’re allowed to take us with you?” Kíli asked, and put away his carving things to get his bedroll out.

“Not _that_ big of a secret. But it would be dangerous if the wrong people somehow caught wind of it.”

Neither Kíli nor Tauriel said anything about that. They knew what it was like to have a secret to keep. Tauriel sometimes toyed with the idea of telling Fíli the truth of what she was, since she trusted him just as much as Kíli by now. But it wasn’t something she’d share willingly, not something she trusted herself with even saying out loud when nobody was near. The fact that Nori and Dwalin now knew of it was more accident than intent on her part, and perhaps even Kíli wouldn’t have ever gotten to know if he hadn’t fallen onto her right after she dropped out of the sky.

Which only would have been the case if they hadn’t met at all…

Kíli flopped back into his bedroll, staring up at the sky.

“How are we supposed to help you find something if we don’t even know what we’re looking for?”

“ _You’re_ not looking,” Fíli pointed out. “You’re keeping me company as _I_ look.” He thought for a long moment.

“It’s not exactly useful in anyone’s hand. Except for trying to ransom it.”

After a few more moments he looked as his companions.

“You know, it’s not exactly a secret that it _exists_ so I can tell you a little.”

Kíli rolled onto his belly, propping his chin in his hands and looking up at Fíli with wide eyes as Tauriel leaned forward. 

“The Line of Durin, the ruling family - _my_ family… We have been in the possession of a powerful artefact, the Arkenstone. Some say that it was bestowed upon us by the great Maker himself.”

Fíli sat up a little more, his voice clear and steady as if he was reciting history he’d learned and read over and over.

“The King’s Jewel, it was called, as the King can wield it best of all, and is its official guardian. The Arkenstone holds significant power, and it can curse and ruin, but also bring life and prosperity. If it is left untouched it will extend a protection over the land, and help in a more direct way should the ruler take it up in times of war. My great-grandfather, King Thror, had taken it with him to fight against the armies of Orcs so he could help protect our own soldiers and aid our spell casters in the advance. But he was slain; in the battle, my own uncle was overpowered and saw no other choice but to cast the Arkenstone away by magic, to be far away from the enemy’s hands, and our own as well, sadly.”

Fíli looked at the fire for a moment, and near childish joy played on his face.

“I remember it, though I was very young. The Arkenstone is a blue-white gem, of unparalleled beauty; it reflects light like nothing else and emits its own glow. It is supposed to be imbedded over the throne of the main hall, and it is _mesmerizing_. Since it was cast away, it probably seems like a regular blue gem, and it might be hidden under foliage, or in a ditch somewhere. A farmer’s dog might have eaten it for all we know.”

“How would you not know?” Kíli asked in a whisper, and Fíli shrugged.

“When my uncle cast it away, he made sure that it would be impossible to use it until one of the line of Durin touches it again. A protective measure; even if our enemies would have found it, it wouldn’t have been of any use.” 

Kíli hummed as he thought about it, and Tauriel tried to imagine a gem that cast a blue glow..

“I really hope to find it soon,” Fíli sighed. “It doesn’t seem to be urgent, but should anything happen, or an enemy attack, it would be so much more reassuring that we have its protection. 

He snuggled into his bedroll, but paused for a moment.

“Now, _you_ have to tell me a secret in exchange,” he said with a grin.

“Oi! I don’t even have any-“ Kíli started but Fíli waved him off.

“Not _now_. Another day. It’s late.”

He settled down to sleep and Kíli pouted.

Tauriel looked down at him with a hum. She reached out to play with his hair, and he wriggled like a contented puppy.

They settled down, and Tauriel kept looking over to Kíli. The bedrolls were around the fire, but the way they were facing each other she could quietly whisper to Kíli without being heard over the firewood’s cracking and the night’s sounds. 

“Do you have no secrets at all?”

“Nobody _tells me_ enough to have any significant secrets,” Kíli huffed with a shrug. “I could tell you some scandalous town gossip about the butcher’s daughter, or the location of the coins I planted when I was eight in the hopes that they would grow a money tree, but I don’t suppose that’s relevant.”

He didn’t look upset about it at all. Instead he smiled and reached out to wrap his hand around Tauriel’s. It was soft and calloused at the same time, from the time they’d spent on the Wind Dancer, and Tauriel quite liked the feeling of it. She sometimes wished he’d hold her hands more, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable to walk like that for as long as they did, and still keep up chatter with Fíli. 

“Perhaps I _do_ have an important secret, though I can only guess at the answer.”

“Oh?” Tauriel rested her chin on her bent arm, curious to hear. 

“It’s just _how much_ I love you, and I do not know the limits yet. Perhaps there are none.”

For a brief moment Tauriel stared at him with mouth agape and eyes wide, then she burst out giggling and Kíli looked away with a grin, his cheeks crimson. 

“To the stars and back,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. 

“To the stars and back, and up again,” Kíli agreed with a solemn nod, still blushing. 

“That’s...quite a long way. I’ve _been_ there,” murmured Tauriel, heart fluttering.

“I know.”

Unable to withstand the endearing vulnerability in his face a moment longer, Tauriel shoved at him gently and flopped down on her side, ordering, “sleep, you can think of more silly chat-up attempts in the morning."

“Oh mark my words, I will, I'll come up with something so romantic I'll make you blush again, just you wait!"

“ _Please_ stop being so sickly sweet this late when others want to sleep,” Fíli sighed from the other side of the fire, startling the other two. “Just go to sleep, Kíli!”

He obeyed at once, pulling his blanket over his shoulders and curling up. Tauriel peeked over at him and watched him for a few minutes, before she turned to lie on her back and looked up at the stars above. 

She wondered if her siblings would be happy for her, if they could see her well. She really did wish for them to see how happy she was, despite being torn from them so suddenly. With that thought Tauriel closed her eyes, and fell asleep to the sounds of the mortal world around her. 

*

It was not immediately apparent that something was off between the captain and the first mate, so it took the crew a little while to see it, and a little while longer to understand what they saw. Sure, the two performed their duties and worked together to command the ship with only a hint of strained professionalism. But something had happened on the night of the dance, and it soon became clear that that _something_ had not involved a bed. It had also not involved a wall nor a floor, or any sort of furniture for that matter, which had lost Bofur quite a sum of money on that bet. 

It was so strange to see. There was no banter, no easy chatter of comfort in each other’s company. No moments of rest spent together. Nori spoke no more than was necessary to perform his duty as first mate perfectly, with his politeness carrying none of its usual warmth and good natured jabbing. Dwalin on the other hand seemed to scowl more than usual, as this was how his face naturally shifted when he didn’t pay attention to his expression. He stared at Nori as one might stare at one who’d just played a prank or disobeyed an order, only Dwalin never did so for longer than a couple of minutes. For Nori’s part, it went on for days with no end in sight. 

Even when the other wasn’t around neither Dwalin nor Nori acted as they used to. Dwalin treated everyone as he always did, professional and never unkind, but seemed tired or lost in thought at any given moment. Nori grew quieter, and hid up in the rigging and pouted more often than he sat joking with the crew. He’d slept in a hammock among the crew the first two nights after the dance, though nobody had thought much of it at the time. After that he’d disappeared from there as well.

“I don’t understand what they could have done wrong to end up like this,” Bofur complained, sore over the lost bets but also being so wrong in guessing that their captain and first mate would end up in bed every night from now on. “There’s not that much to get wrong, is there? With… ye’ know?” He thrust his hips in demonstration.

Rather unfortunately, Nori passed by just as he spoke, but Bofur didn’t take heed. “I didn’t expect the Captain to be so bad a lay that it would ruin Nori’s mood completely, but…” 

Nori might have laughed at such a comment once, but Bofur was sentenced to two weeks of scrubbing every inch of the Wind Dancer’s deck. Nori changed his mind later, but from that moment it was clear that whatever had happened that night was more than just a small spat. 

Dwalin was too absorbed in his own worries to notice that the crew had picked up on his tension with Nori right away. It was foolish to expect that he might have gone without anyone noticing. Every crew he’d ever known had been good at picking out major shifts in their captain’s mood, and even if he were good at hiding, just the fact that he wasn’t talking to Nori anymore already was hint enough. Not that he didn’t _try_.

He tried to apologize the first day after Fíli had left the ship. They’d avoided each other completely after the dance, but there were still duties they had to perform together. 

Nori had brought a list of supplies to be purchased at the next port, waiting as ever while Dwalin read through it for confirmation. Usually Nori joked or talked, or told Dwalin something about the place they’d visited, or similar placed he had seen. This time Nori simply stood before the desk, eyes fixed on a spot just above Dwalin’s head, waiting orders. Ever the dutiful first mate to anyone looking on, but utterly wrong to Dwalin.

When he was done reading through the list, Dwalin put the paper aside and sighed as he rubbed his eyes briefly. 

“Nori…” he started, hoping that he succeeded in keeping his voice gentle and truly apologetic. “About that night… I hope you didn’t take it wrong. I never meant to offend you in any way-”

“No offense taken, captain,” Nori said. 

His eyes had flickered briefly, now staring at the desk. 

Dwalin gave him a long look, not quite sure how to take Nori’s nonchalant reply. Dwalin didn’t like the silence between them. It was more or less tolerable while there were guests on board, but now that things were returning to normal he was going to try and mend the rift between them.

“That is all. Would you join me this evening? We have some of that new sweet ale, perhaps we could open a cask. I cherish your company, and I would hope to-”

“I have things to look through this evening,” Nori dismissed him, seeming very interested in Dwalin’s ink pot. 

Dwalin’s shoulders slumped a little, and the request to postpone it to another evening was on his lips, when Nori spoke again. 

“Do you need me for anything else, sir?”

His eyes finally met Dwalin’s, cold and hard. There was no emotion in them, Nori’s face completely still, apart from the slightly clenched jaw.

Dwalin stared back for a moment, before he had to avert his eyes. 

“No. You are dismissed.”

He didn’t look up as Nori turned on his heels and closed the door behind him. The use of _Captain_ and _Sir_ in blatant place of Dwalin’s name stung.

At least it served to remind Dwalin that he was Nori’s superior officer, and he could not do what he wished; he could not, even if he yearned for nothing more than to hold Nori in his arms and kiss him and promise him that he hadn’t _wanted_ to turn him away. But he couldn’t, he held too much power on the ship… 

Why had that been so hard to understand? 

Dwalin _was_ his captain, it was a fact, and yet that simple difference between them had seemed to upset Nori. It was simple though, there was no way to deny it: that the captain of a ship, or in an army, or a commander of any sort, should not try have relationships with those beneath him. _Especially_ not on a ship, in such a small space that was their home through most of the year. 

He’d seen it happen on some ships he’d served on. The captain would eye the prettier crew members, sometimes even invite them to drink with them, share their meals in their cabin and more, maybe… who’d say no? Some even tried to catch the captain’s attention, just to get favours, more pay…

Nori would have caught anyone’s eye. Just thinking of that made Dwalin’s throat tighten in shame as he thought of all the presents he’d given Nori in friendship (or what he’d _thought_ to be nothing but friendship) and the many times he’d invited him to his cabin. On so many other ships this would have already crossed the line. _Taking advantage_ , his mind supplied, no matter how hard he fought to squash that idea and assure himself that this wasn’t the case.

Perhaps it was what Nori had wanted, but Dwalin couldn’t stand the thought. 

For years he had thought that Nori craved intimacy and emotional connection more than just ‘no strings attached.’. Yet he had recovered so quickly from his surprise of Dwalin not wanting a relationship, had offered to fuck and then carry on as friends as if nothing had ever happened- 

As if saying that him being in love with Dwalin _meant nothing_. 

Now he didn’t even want to _talk_ to Dwalin after being rejected in that as well. 

For the life of him, Dwalin couldn’t figure out what exactly had put Nori off like this. 

Perhaps he should have said yes. Just once, just once…

Just the thought of _what could have been_ hurt as much seeing Nori’s distraught face. How would it have been? Sweet and gentle perhaps, or rough and passionate? Amazing in any case, no matter what they’d have been in the mood for. _And then?_ Then Nori would have been content to go on with just the memory of one time, content to just be friends. 

Having the one he loved _once_ , and never again, never being allowed to have him as long as they both were on the ship, not wanting to let him go because he loved being on the Wind Dancer with Nori more than he wanted to be _with_ him… 

It was hard to think of. 

Dwalin wasn’t sure when he had realized that something was wrong with Nori. Besides that he was upset and ignoring him, of course. No light ever shone from under Nori’s door when Dwalin passed, so he evidently wasn’t staying in there, and the small bath chamber they’d shared never showed signs of Nori either. 

At first Dwalin had just assumed that Nori had gone to sleep with the crew instead, in a huff, and would return eventually to give Dwalin the cold shoulder there. 

But he didn’t. 

Dwalin did his best to ignore it, just as he tried to ignore the way the crew watched them with worried eyes. It wasn’t his place to interfere with anything Nori did, or where on the ship he was in his free time. 

The first mate wasn’t the only one who’d changed his sleeping habits. Though Dwalin didn’t leave his rooms, he also often felt too restless to lie in bed. So much of the time he would have spent in Nori’s company was now spent doing nothing. 

He’d tried to play his violin, but it brought no joy with it. He tried to read, but his eyes would skip over words over and over, without making sense of anything. He tried to work through the night instead of distracting himself futilely, but all he could think of was Nori scolding him for working too much and suggesting they share some wine. 

In the end Dwalin would get some wine (or whatever was closest) out of his shelf, and drink it alone. He felt the urge to drink himself to sleep, and forget, just as he might after a bad break up. He couldn’t do that, but just getting a little bit drunk would suffice. 

More often than not Dwalin would doze off on the couch of the office with nothing but a bottle and a throw blanket to keep him comfortable, and each time he would wake up with a stiff and aching neck. It was enough rest to get by, and sometimes he slept longer on the couch than when he tried his bed. 

A week and a half passed, and nothing changed. The Wind Dancer visited small towns of the north, selling wares and gathering supplies, before returning to the region’s main river and following its course. 

Outside the sun peeked through a few light clouds, but the wind made it quite a cold day. It was warm in the cabin, and Dwalin stared at a small map in his hands, skimming over the plotted course he already knew. 

“Come in,” he announced when a knock sounded from the door, and for a brief stupid second Dwalin hoped it was Nori, before it opened and Mirra stepped in. 

“Yes?” he asked, putting down the map. 

“We’ve reached a patch of the river bank that doesn’t have any villages nearby, and there’s good docking space,” Mirra said, after a brief polite greeting. “It’d be a good opportunity to restock any water supplies and take the time to wash up.”

There was something stiff in the way she talked to him; quite a few crewmembers had started acting this way ever since the fallout between him and Nori. Perhaps they assumed that he had done something wrong and deserved scorn. Perhaps he did. 

“Very well. Tell Bifur to steer the ship to the next spot you can find and we shall take care of anything.”

Mirra nodded, and half turned to leave. She thought better of it, and threw a look at Dwalin. 

“Permission to speak frankly, Sir?”

“...How frankly?”

“Quite frankly indeed, Sir.”

“Permission granted,” Dwalin replied, curious of why she was so formal. 

“You’ve been a wanker.”

Ah. She was angry. 

Dwalin rose from his chair and walked around the desk, unwilling to sit down while one of his crew brought some complaints of any sort to him. 

“How so?”

Mirra briefly screwed up her nose.  
“I don’t know what happened between you and Nori, but you need to sort it out. Whatever you did is affecting him badly. If you haven’t noticed that, I don’t know what else to tell you…”

Dwalin sighed and briefly shut his eyes. It was all too obvious.

“I don’t _know_ what I did wrong to upset him so. I tried apologizing-”

“Then you clearly didn’t do a good job of that,” Mirra snapped. “He doesn’t sleep in our quarters anymore, I don’t even know where he’s hiding at night, but he’s not doing well.”

Dwalin could feel his heart sink. 

“He’s not staying in the crew’s quarters?”

Mirra shook her head. 

“He did the first two nights, but now…”

Her voice was a little calmer, possibly because she saw the hurt and guilt in Dwalin’s face. 

“Sometimes I see him sneaking to the lowest decks, but I don’t know if he stays there. He took his hammock, but nothing else is missing, I don’t think.”

The lowest decks. 

Dwalin did his best to keep the pain from showing in his face. This was as the situation had been ten years ago, when Nori first had come aboard the Wind Dancer and Dwalin had raged and ranted and tried to kick him off the ship. _When Nori hadn’t felt safe_. Dwalin had never expected that Nori would need to hide away _again_. 

“Have you spoken to him?”

Mirra shook her head. 

“Not about anything important. He won’t _tell_ you anything, but I tried to comfort him as best I could.”

She looked at the Captain for a moment longer, then turned to go.

“I will try and get him to rejoin us, but I doubt he’d want to. Anyway, I will go tell Bifur now.”

“Wait!” Dwalin called just before she started pulling the door closed.  
Mirra stopped, looking at Dwalin suspiciously. 

It was so cold in the lowest deck. Dwalin would have gone to find Nori and talk some sense into him, but he knew Nori would not want to be approached. 

All Dwalin could do was to make sure that Nori at least had more than a hammock’s cloth and a lamp for warmth. He wouldn’t intrude in Nori’s room to take things off his bed, especially with Mirra waiting, so Dwalin grabbed the large throw blanket off the couch. 

“Please, give him this. Tell… Nori… I don’t like knowing that he’s cold because of something I did.”

Mirra stared at the blanket for a moment, but finally reached out and carefully folded it. 

“I will do that Captain,” she said, and finally left with the blanket under her arm. 

Dwalin sighed and sank down on the couch. 

He was hurting, and still angry and upset about Nori. It felt as if the very foundation of their relationship was crumbling away until there would be nothing left to fix, and all he could do was to hope Nori would be alright. 

 

*

The light of the small lamp wasn’t enough to banish the shadows of the lowest storage room, but it was more than sufficient to clearly see the work in his hands. 

Nori hadn’t thrown out old and faded or torn clothes in quite a while, simply keeping them bundled up in a chest in storage, but now he had the time to do some mending. 

He’d never been good at simply sitting around when he was upset. He much preferred keeping his hands occupied to lying down doing nothing. It was cold up in the rigging, and he didn’t like being so visible to the crew, though they might not even be able to see him. It was cold down here as well, his fingers a little stiff as they held thread and needle, but he was sheltered from wind and prying eyes. 

Of course, it would be nicer up in his own room. A place he simply could not go. He _couldn’t_ , not after everything. 

It hurt to know that he wasn’t as valued as he thought he was. At least not the way he wished to be valued. He should have known, but he hadn’t believed it. Dwalin was his captain, as he’d so painstakingly emphasized, he was of the line of Durin, a noble, a warrior… and who was Nori after all? He was nothing, neither in birth nor in achievements prior to becoming a respectable first mate on the Wind Dancer. 

Nobody would want a lover such as Nori. 

He’d even briefly wondered whether Dwalin only valued him as a friend because nobody else was there to fill the spot with the King himself not aboard. That thought had been too painful, and Nori couldn’t believe that Dwalin would act like that for ten years if he didn’t want to. 

He was simply not good enough for more…

‘ _Even the crew thinks I’m good enough for Dwalin to bed,_ ’ Nori thought bitterly, recalling Bofur’s comments. 

Then again, Bofur wasn’t a noble, and even Óin and Glóin were of lower rank on both the ship and in the line of succession. They all were closer to Nori, and it would be less of a stretch for them. 

It had happened so many times before, Nori didn’t even bother memorizing each separate occasion. He’d work with people, pull heists and steal for them, be _friends_ even. Merchants who wanted illegal things and nobles so lowly they had nothing but a questionable claim to a title. They all were friendly, but over and over they had made clear that Nori was nothing but dirt under their shoes. Useful, pretty, clever even. But as soon as Nori needed anything, or wanted actual respect or showed genuine affection… 

Nori had believed that Dwalin would be different. 

The ripped seam of the shirt in his hands was slowly mending, and Nori quietly wished he could close the gash in his heart just as easily as he could sew the cloth back together. 

Perhaps just being slighted like that would have been fine, if he hadn’t _offered_ , if he’d just let it be. 

Usually even those who thought themselves better than him wouldn’t say no to a fuck. Nori _was_ pretty, nearly as pretty as his older sister. And he’d never have too hard of a time of getting into anyone’s bed, when the interest had arisen. Just for the sake of it, or for favors and coins offered in return. Nori couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone _offended_ by a proposition, as Dwalin had. 

No matter the exchange, Nori had always enjoyed his lays. But the yearning for emotional closeness the day after had eventually grown too tiresome. Wishing for love or intimacy outweighed the wish for quick pleasure. 

That Nori had even offered himself to Dwalin had been stupid and ill advised. He’d made himself vulnerable, and look where that had gotten him. 

He couldn’t even look at Dwalin now. Anger and hurt tore at his mind and wouldn’t leave him in peace. 

The anger was slowly cooling down, but in turn there was sadness seeping in, and Nori was loath to let the grief of a broken heart and broken relationship torture him. It was already so hard being on the ship, with nowhere to go, nowhere to stay out of Dwalin’s way. 

He just needed _space_ , he needed to run…

This was his home, _Dwalin_ had been his home too, for nearly ten years now. Where else was he supposed to go? Dori and Ori were content where they were, but Nori would be useless there. Where else could he go? He didn’t want to be on another ship, didn’t want to be anywhere…

Nori’s hand clenched around his needle, and he had to force it to relax before he could stab himself with it. 

Something creaked from the direction of the door, and another light appeared in the room. Nori looked up, ready to fight and argue and demand to be left alone, but it was Mirra standing there, lamp in hand. 

“There you are,” she said, eyes falling on the small niche of barrels, boxes and hammock Nori had made for himself. 

He expected her to argue with him about sleeping somewhere else, but no such comment came. Instead, Mirra walked closer and put the lamp on one of the barrels before leaning towards him and holding out a folded up blanket. 

“Take this,” she said, and Nori put his mending down, surprised. 

“Why… I could have gotten a blanket myself.”

“No you wouldn’t have. You didn’t before.”

Nori looked up at her suspiciously. 

“Were you sent to make me go upstairs?”

“No,” Mirra rolled her eyes. “Again, I know you wouldn’t.”

Nori took the blanket, running his hand over the soft material. It would be warm, even down here…

“Dwalin told me to tell you that he doesn’t want you to be cold just because you’re mad at him.”

Nori bristled at that. Dwalin was clever enough not to push the matter of… them… again, but now he was throwing scraps at him? He wanted to refuse, and hand it back and tell Mirra to tell Dwalin some choice insults, but he _was_ cold, and the blanket was a comfort he wouldn’t have taken by himself. 

“Thank you, Mirra,” he said instead, and she smiled sadly. 

“Take care of yourself. We all worry.”

He nodded, and was quiet as Mirra picked her lamp back up and left him alone again. 

For a moment Nori considered throwing the blanket in a corner. But his fingers were already cold and the blanket was warm…

It was big enough to cuddle himself into, wrap it around his shoulders and hide half of his face in the softness of it. It smelled like Dwalin, as if he’d worn it in his cabin too.

Nori closed his eyes as he made himself comfortable, feeling a little warmer already. It hurt to think of it, and he didn’t _want_ to either, but just sitting there, Dwalin’s blanket for comfort, it was nearly enough to pretend that Dwalin hadn’t rejected him, that he hadn’t hurt him. It stupid, but enough, and since Nori was too tired and cold to care, he stayed where he was, and pretended anyway.


	44. The Woman in the Red Dress

The horses were trembling in fear and exhaustion as Smaug finally ordered them to stop and stepped down from her chariot. It had been a long journey up north and to the west, always on the lookout for a certain sky ship. The Wind Dancer did not share its routes, but it did tend to move between the same towns and ports every so often.

It hadn’t been hard to steal horses and a chariot and pry in various ports, where Wormtongue’s information had taken her. At least that worm-with-a-tongue hadn’t spoken lies to try and set her on a wrong path to find that ship. 

“Oh aye, she’s to the east of Belegost” or “Last I heard they made for Ered Luin” from friendly unsuspecting folk had been more than enough to find her way from there.

The great lake stretched before her, down in a valley between the hills and first outcrops of Ered Mithrim. Rivers fed into it and contributed the expanse of clear blue water, wide enough that tiny houses of the fishers on the opposite shore were only just visible. It wasn’t the biggest trade point of the north, nor did it have big and impressive cities, but good winds, fertile land and the many bodies of water had made Ereboreans settle and persist despite the last war. 

The town was nestled between high hills and cliffs, docks reaching far over the lake and and small boats bobbing gently in the water. The port for sky ships was a short distance from the town itself, separated by a small road. 

The only ship there was unmistakably the Wind Dancer, looking like a toy where it hung several feet over the lake. It was built small and shallow, tiny compared to the big and heavy merchant ships Smaug had once seen. It’s hull seemed to be about the size her true form had, without the wingspan and her long winding tail.

A ship such as that was suited for transport rather than battle, and never in their wildest dreams would the crew be able to take down a dragon. And they would not know to fight back if she stepped before them in _this_ shape.

Smaug unhooked the horses from her chariot, leaving the beasts standing where they were, still frozen at her presence. It didn’t matter to her, if her fortune was good she would not even have use in them as a light snack. She would easily find other horses if need arose.

Strolling down the path to the picturesque scenery before her, Smaug ran her hands over her dress and hair, making sure that no glamour was needed for a quick primp. She looked wealthy, like a grand Lady in the exquisite dark burgundy dress, her red hair in artful curls with the barely-visible gold woven into it to catch the light. There was no trace of her rage in her appearance anymore, nothing burned, nothing ripped or ruffled from her journey. She had even found (stolen) an elegant dark shawl and long gloves to match the rest of her things.

She could call herself anything, and nobody would question it. Merchant, Baroness, Dutchess even… though something less than that would suffice.

A light breeze carried a trace of the Wind Dancer’s scent to her as she approached, and Smaug’s nostrils briefly flared more than was attractive on her pretty face. She couldn’t yet make out the scent of a star amongst the odors of machine oil and wood, but it did not matter, so Smaug put on a sweet smile as the stepped before the dock leading to the ship. If the star had stepped aboard even once, the crew would know, and the crew _would tell her_. 

*

The Wind Dancer had flown through a storm a few days ago, and now that they had sold a good chunk of their harvest it was time for the crew to make sure that everything was alright with the ship. Autumn storms could get harsher, with more hail in them or the sheer amount taking a toll on the ship. Best to know if something was out of order before they ended up missing out on another storm.

Nori looked up from his inventory checklist to watch the lake’s surface. This town was a peaceful place, full of all sorts of people from all over the land, for one reason or another. Smaller villages were in an hour’s walk away from it, the nearest crossroad leading in every direction just up the next hill. 

The lake itself wasn’t deep enough for a sky ship to land in the water with the town’s smaller fishing boats, so they had to make do with docking quite a bit away from it, where the shore rose up into steep cliffs. There it was high enough for a ship to hover in the air and lay out a plank horizontally. The lake here was deep enough for bigger sky ships not to run ashore even if they chose to actually land on the water, or only sink a few feet in, but the Wind Dancer hovered barely above the waves rather than resting on them. 

It was an idyllic place, in front of a picturesque background of Ered Mithrim in the distance, and Nori could remember being there once, when he was so young he could barely recall any details. Dori had seemed giant then, nearly grown up, and his father had been alive. A captain of the army whose children would always get sweets and whose wife would get earrings and ribbons from merchants on top of any purchase.

But that had been so long ago.

Usually he’d enjoy being here with the crew. Now Nori wasn’t sure he’d be able to enjoy anything with… him… acting the way he did.

Dwalin stood at the helm, as far away from Nori as was possible, speaking to Bifur about something.

Each time he thought of him Nori had to fight the urge to clench his jaw and look away. He wasn’t a child, to pout like this. So what if even the moments they needed to communicate for the ship’s sake were near unbearable now? Cold and tense and increasingly short in words. Let _Dwalin_ be cold and bitter, let _him_ glare at Nori more and more often. It wasn’t like Nori wasn’t doing the same, and one didn’t see _the Captain_ pout. He would not show his heart break and the sense of betrayal, so Nori wouldn’t show any pettiness either.

Nori wasn’t sure when it had started, but it felt as if they both had slipped from nursing their hurt on their own to being downright cold to each other simultaneously. It wasn’t like Dwalin had any reason to be this upset at Nori, but he’d clearly shown his displeasure more than once. Most recently when Nori guessed at the nature of the oncoming storm, based on how the clouds looked and how the wind moved, and Dwalin’s lips had thinned as he’d dismissed Nori’s words by saying that ‘ _he could see that himself_ ’.

Of course he could, he’d not be captain otherwise. Nori hadn’t needed to speak to him at all, but if Dwalin didn’t want to have Nori speak to him, he wouldn’t. Good to know that Dwalin wasn’t missing him…

The crew had heard and looked uncomfortable and pained, as they always did when it was evident how the fight between their captain and the first mate not only hadn’t resolved, but also gradually became worse in its aftermath.

They had looked just the same way when Nori had decided he would take one of the bottles Dwalin only ever used when he had fancy and important guests on board, and drink it himself. He’d sat on a barrel in the storage room, ranting and cursing about Dwalin without actually using his name but making it very clear whom he meant, ignoring the audience of passing crewmembers being a changing one. 

It hurt to know that Dwalin could move past the initial reaction to their fight and remorse to just _ignoring_ Nori. It hurt to know that one day it might not be bearable to stay on the Wind Dancer at all. Once upon a time, Nori might have just taken his things and left without a word of goodbye, but now he still clung to the hope of things somehow turning out for the better. Perhaps even good enough to return to some kind of friendship with Dwalin, eventually.

“Looks like we have a guest!” Bofur called, jarring Nori out of his thoughts, and Nori turned back to see what he meant.

The mechanic was adjusting his hat as he looked towards the shore, and several others were looking too. Nori followed his stare and straightened up as he saw the woman.

She was approaching the ship, past the empty carts they’d used to transport supplies, coming along the path that led to the town. Her dress looked sumptuous, even at the distance, and her upbraided hair moved in the wind. Nori got the impression that she must be a merchant, or a merchant’s wife perhaps, maybe a noblewoman. _Rich_ at the very least.

He wasn’t sure why, but something about her made Nori suspect that she wasn’t one he’d like to be around. Perhaps something about her walk reminded him of people he’d met in the past. 

Once she had reached the plank she stepped over it, calling out to the crew in a light and cheerful voice.

“Permission to come aboard, sirs?”

“Granted,” Nori called back, stepping forward to meet her.

The expensive materials of her dress and her subtle jewellery, better suited for leisure time in a mansion, looked quite out of place on the deck of a storm hunters’ sky ship.

“What can I help you with?” he asked her, not trying to sound particularly welcoming. There was nothing she could offer or ask for that the crew would be interested in.

“I would very much like to speak to the captain of this ship,” she replied, her tone friendly in the way of people who knew they would get what they wanted even if they were rude.

“There are some business matters I would like to propose to him.”

Her bright golden eyes moved over the ship and up the rigging to take in the masts and sails. She didn’t look as if she was about to screw her nose at it, as some others had done before, and instead she seemed curious about the Wind Dancer’s built.

“What kind of business would that be?”

“Oh, I will tell this to the captain when he’s here.”

Nori was about to rebuke her and say that the entire crew would know either way, but Dwalin had inevitably noticed the newcomer aboard and had stepped down to greet her himself.

“That would be me,” he said. As always Dwalin just had to speak up and everyone aboard would watch and listen to him.

“What can I do for ye’, Lady…?”

The woman’s face shifted. Her curiosity and good natured smile turned into something else as her eyes fell on Dwalin, her dark red lips curled into an entirely different smile and her eyelids drooped just a tiny bit. It wasn’t much, but Nori felt himself bristle.

“Captain Dwalin. It is a _pleasure_ to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you and your ship – recommended by quite a few people. Glowing praise, I’m sure.”

The crew had moved down from whatever they’d been doing, standing around on deck in respectable distance but still watching and listening. Dwalin bowed his head to the woman and everyone was waiting for what would come of this. Nearly everyone was be curious about what sort of business she might propose.

“I am pleased to hear people were satisfied enough to talk well of us,” Dwalin told her.

The woman’s hand moved up to slide over her hair and push back what had fallen over her shawl. She was laughing quietly, eyes never moving away from Dwalin.

“Oh, that they were.”

Again her hands moved over her hair and her shawl, adjusting a little, make her appearance look more perfect than before as Dwalin looked back at her. Nori fought the urge to look away, angry at her, angry at whatever she was trying to pull. Her behaviour annoyed him, and Dwalin wasn’t letting anything on so he couldn’t even tell whether he was annoyed as well or had even noticed in the first place.

“To come to the matter of business…” she went on, never dropping her smile, and stepped a little closer to Dwalin. “I have several crates of wares that I would like to have transported, preferably sooner than with a caravan heading my way or with river boats. I would pay you handsomely for your ship’s service to move my wares and myself.”

“We don’t take passengers,” Nori threw in quickly.

The only ones permitted such privileges were those who worked during their stay, or family members of the crew, such as Balin. And technically he was working too, with the wares or the tasks at hand. Never had they allowed for merchants to travel along, not after the many times they’d gotten in the way and on everybody’s nerves.

Nori hadn’t expected Dwalin’s cold stare at those words, looking straight at him for the first time in days.

“That is for me to decide,” he said coolly, and Nori opened his mouth slightly, to protest, but could not find the words when faced with those cold blue eyes he never wanted to see looking at him like this.

The lady’s eyes had flickered to Nori briefly, but when Dwalin turned to apologize she looked at him as if nothing had happened. More adoring perhaps even…

“Depending on the course and the weight of the wares I see no issue with this,” Dwalin told her. “It might not be as comfortable a journey as you’re accustomed to…”

He knew how to speak to nobility, and rich merchants for sure, but Nori couldn’t bear listening. 

“What’s a little discomfort with such good company,” she laughed.

“I’d like to discuss matters in private, if it’s all the same to you?” she asked, voice dropping into a confidential murmur. “Is there anywhere we can go, just the two of us?”

“My office will do.”

She offered her arm to Dwalin, like Ori so often did when Nori was there, when she wanted to feel like a little lady and have her brother pamper her. This was _very_ different though.

Dwalin, ever the well-bred noble’s son, immediately took it, turning to lead her. Her gloved hand was on his arm right away, getting way too close.

Nori took a step along with them, wishing for nothing but to have that woman stop acting the way she did.

“Why the hurry?” he asked, a little annoyed. “And what’s so private that the crew of the ship _you’re hiring_ can’t know about it? You can’t expect to just come on board and demand the attention of-”

“You never liked such negotiations, so I won’t bore you with them today,” Dwalin interrupted the rant, as he stopped, glaring back at Nori.

For the second time Nori felt frozen to the spot by Dwalin’s glare, for the second time words escaped him.

“But Captain…” 

“Since you clearly don’t like the idea of this you can stay here. I will handle this on my own,” Dwalin went on, looking away and releasing Nori from his cold stare. 

It hurt to bespoken to as if he was just some loudmouth swabbie instead of Dwalin’s _right hand man_. Even the crew was now staring at Nori with worried looks.

The woman meanwhile clung closer to Dwalin’s arm, flush against him as he lead her to his office. Before stepping through, she glanced over her shoulder, right at Nori, and for a split second she had the most catty smile on her face. She all but said ‘ _I win_ ’ out loud, and Nori fought the urge to sneer back at her, to give her one of his sharp smiles and touch the knife on his belt. 

He did none of that and watched the door close behind them, feeling lost and angry and out of place. Most of the crew was now staring at Nori, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Well…” Bofur started, glancing at Nori as he scratched the back of his neck. “That was rough.”

Nori sneered and behind him he could hear Mirra scoff about it. She’d been the one to be angry with Dwalin most obviously, even if Nori didn’t want her help or anger on his behalf.

Something wasn’t right with that woman…

He was just jealous and hurt over Dwalin proving time and time again that he could do without Nori.

Some of the pain must have shown on his face, as Bofur shook his head and tugged at Nori’s sleeve.

“Let’s go.”

He pulled Nori along until they were at the helm, and then made Nori sit down with him.

“You have things to do,” Nori muttered, but still leaned against the rail. He could just as well nurse his pride here.

“Oh yes, things to do…” Bofur said and stretched out on the planks. At Nori’s raised eyebrow he shrugged.

“Sometimes, if yer lucky, you’ll hear what’s going on in the Captain’s quarters like this. And please forget about it once you two make up.” 

He gave Nori a cheeky wink.

Nori had several replies to that burning on his tongue, but decided against commenting in favour of pressing his ear to the deck.

*

The lady let go of his arm as Dwalin stepped into his quarters and closed the door behind him. She looked around at the decorations of the walls and the pretty furniture. Dwalin’s quarters were the most luxurious part of the ship since before she came into his possession; Dwalin did not think much of it, but often guests aboard were pleasantly surprised that Dwalin’s private quarters were not as sparse as soldiers’ barracks. Dwalin would not have minded, too used to that from being a soldier and on different smaller ships.

He had enjoyed it more than once, on quiet evenings with Nori…

“You may sit where you wish,” he told the lady, indicating the couch closer to his desk where he sat down himself.

She smiled and her eyes flicked downwards, but didn’t sit down on the couch yet.

“Very nice ship,” she complimented. “And such cosy quarters. I see I will enjoy my stay here, be it brief or longer.”

Dwalin nodded and reached for the small stack of documents and contract templates. 

“What were the wares you wished to have transported?”

“Oh, nothing, just a few crates of expensive crafting components. Now that I know I might use a Sky Ship there’s no hurry for me.”

She smiled at Dwalin, small dimples appearing on her smooth cheeks. 

“We can take our time here.”

Her small hands undid the clasp on her shawl expertly, sliding it off and shaking her lustrous mane. She sat down on the end of the couch, closest to Dwalin, her back arched just a little bit and smiling attentively at him. 

The copper skin of her neck and over her chest was glistening subtly, as if she had powered it. Dwalin wasn’t sure if that had been a trend among nobility and the rich merchants; he’d never cared to pay attention to these sorts of recent trends, unless Nori did. And in this case, Nori did not. 

For the briefest moment Dwalin was distracted by thoughts of his first mate. He could barely speak to Nori now, growing bitter after so long of Nori’s coldness, and his own apologies dying in his mouth before he could think to speak them. Nori would not even come close to the quarters they’d once shared, not even to get his own things. His fur coat was still where he’d left it, and that morning Dwalin had accidentally used Nori’s jasmine soap which he’d left in the washroom. That had both cracked Dwalin’s heart all over again and put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day. 

It was not right for them to be like this, not talking, not even working together anymore. Nori should have been here, no matter how much he seemed to be annoyed the woman asking for business.

“Are you quite alright, captain?” the woman breathed worriedly. 

She’d leaned forward, looking a little concerned. 

“Of course, forgive me,” Dwalin caught himself. 

And here he was letting his personal trouble show when there were tasks at hand. 

“Now, you don’t happen to know the exact weight of your shipment?”

“Not off the top of my head, but it shouldn’t be more than your ship can handle. I promise to pay extra for any pound more than you’d prefer onboard.”

“Anything fragile? Sky Ships are very smooth sailing vessels but a storm will throw everything around.”

“Oh no, it’s quite...resilient. And I may look delicate but I’ve ridden quite a few vessels and rough venture does not bother me.”

She was still leaning forward, her arm subtly pushing against her breasts. Dwalin didn’t pay attention to it, too used to some people trying that to get better transport deals. This was why he preferred Nori being nearby; most didn’t dare make a fool of themselves with the first mate there. He could ignore it though; he’d not shame the lady with pointing that out. 

She leaned back in the couch with a wrinkle of her nose, ceasing her attempt to make Dwalin stare at her. She was pretty, for sure, but certainly not the type Dwalin would fawn over. Let others admire her, others who were in the mood and had the interest in women in the first place. 

Dwalin started to note down the date as he listened to her. 

“Are you sure you quite sure you wish to travel along? This will neither be the sort of comfort you might be used to, nor can I promise that the wind will stay gentle.”

“Oh trust me, I have a strong stomach for flight.”

“For the matter of pay…”

“I shall pay half upfront in gold, and then give you the rest once you deliver me and my wares home.”

“Very well…”

Dwalin noted it down briefly, to compose a proper contract later. Paperwork was tedious, but more reliable than memory. 

“So…” the woman said and leaned her head to the side coyly. “You don’t usually take passengers?”

“No, not usually.”

“Unless they are women?”

There the flirtatious tone was back in her voice. 

“Unless they can afford to travel with their wares or unless they work along with the crew. There isn’t much room on this ship otherwise.”

She hummed thoughtfully. 

“So you haven’t any guests aboard to travel with you recently?”

“No. I haven’t taken passengers on board in well over six months.”

Nori always made sure to grumble about Fíli wanting to travel somewhere, so even the prince would work as part of the crew…

The lady looked at him strangely, still smiling. 

“Oh? I had the impression that being a sweet little redhead would earn you quite a few favours here. Even the privilege to travel…”

Something in the way she said it made Dwalin bristle inside. Had she noticed something between him and Nori? No, how could she, all she’d have seen would have been a captain with a tense relationship to his first mate. 

“Let us drink on this,” he said quickly, somehow wishing he hadn’t agreed to let her stay, so she would just leave already. “You can sign the contract first thing in the morning tomorrow, and we will set sail before noon.”

Dwalin rose from his chair and took two cups from a shelf in his desk, then reached for the wine he’d been drinking alone in his sorrow. Balin had always finished any kind of contract discussions with a drink, and he’d adopted the habit. 

He walked around the desk to pour the wine, and the woman rose from her couch. 

“Is this what you like? Young maids with flowing red hair? _Shining_ beauties? Is it, captain?”

Dwalin put the cup he’d meant to hand her back down on the desk and turned to glare at her. She’d come closer, which made Dwalin tower over her as he squared his shoulders. 

“Your questions are out of line,” he growled, unwilling to be polite anymore. “You haven’t even given me your name and yet you pry…”

The woman’s smile shifted, growing sharper, her eyes burning into his. Predatory, and something in it made Dwalin feel as if she were the giant. He didn’t look away, glaring down on her. 

“I have been looking for too long to care for politeness.”

Her hand rose to touch Dwalin’s chest, and he wanted to bat it away. To his surprise he could not move a single muscle; his arms remained firmly at his sides, his leg just barely brushing the desk though he tried to take a step and push her. 

She laughed, noticing the struggle. 

“Does _every_ descendant of Durin think that eye contact makes them more imposing? The last one was nearly two decades ago, nothing changes. Ha! Now then…” she said and stepped to the door to lock it. 

Dwalin couldn’t even move to follow and stop her. 

He was utterly powerless and he didn’t know _why_. He could only watch as she moved about the room, glancing towards the bedroom door but ignoring it in favor of the wine on the desk. Dwalin couldn’t even turn his head to see her properly where she stood. 

“Such kindness to offer me wine,” she purred and returned into view. She took a long gulp from the cup, and as she opened her mouth steam rose from her lips. 

“Ah, such a nice taste… Not the best bottle you have aboard, is it now?”

Dwalin watched as she turned the cup and poured what was left on the floor at her feet. Again Dwalin couldn’t move, and he couldn’t even flinch at the sound when she tossed the cup away and hit hard wood. 

“Would you tell me _now_? You remember your esteemed guests, don’t you? Unless you did something to them you don’t want me to know…”

“Who are you?”

For a second Dwalin though that the gritted-out comment would anger her, but instead the woman was laughing. 

Dwalin watched in horror as smoke started to rise from her mouth and her slit-pupiled eyes smoldered like hot coals. Her skin cracked and sparked as it turned to red scales for mere seconds, before returning back to the smooth copper perfection she’d shown before. She had fangs for a moment as well, flashing them in a smile. 

“Can you guess?”

Her voice rumbled and hissed like fire, deeper than such a small woman should display… 

“Can you guess my true form, son of Durin?”

A primal kind of fear briefly rose in Dwalin’s chest, threatening to choke him, screaming for him to pick up an axe and defend himself. 

“...Dragon.”

“Oh clever,” she purred and stepped away. “The Terrible, you worms used to call me? I quite enjoyed that title, had a nice ring to it.”

“Smaug,” he guessed, wishing for none of this to be true. If _Smaug_ was awake and powerful enough to change form...

“Not as dumb as you looked,” Smaug commented. “Then perhaps you’re clever enough to know that one does not _lie_ to dragons?”

She was still smiling as she started moving about, back and forth with her eyes moving over the room and back to Dwalin. 

“You surely would remember a pretty young thing with long red hair and pointed ears? I know she was a passenger here. Are you hiding her below decks to mask her scent?”

Dwalin’s heart sank. Of course she would be looking for Tauriel. She must have seen the falling star as well, and she could not under any circumstances get to her. Not for Tauriel’s sake, not for their all sakes. 

“Is this all you wanted? To ask me about people who’d never even been passengers?” he growled. 

Neither Tauriel nor Kíli had been passengers, both of them had been crew from the start. Such half-truth would not help him much, but Dwalin would rather die than tell the worm anything. 

Again Smaug laughed. She seemed to be enjoying herself. 

“Take your time, I haven’t toyed with anything for such a long time. You have no escape and I’m patient.”

She moved close to Dwalin again, out of his sight but her body so close that he could feel an unnatural heat she was emanating. He heard paper shift and then she stepped away with a stack of letters. 

“That little brat left the ship, didn’t it?” Smaug mused as she started to shift through the letters and throw them over her shoulder casually. “Well no matter, it can’t escape once I know which direction it went. I won’t even have to look for long.”

She looked at him expectantly, as if Dwalin had forgotten his cue. 

“I won’t tell you anything,” he gritted out, and she shrugged delicately. 

“In that case you don’t need to speak or scream at all.”

She waved a hand at him, and suddenly there was white hot pain around Dwalin’s throat, choking him for a moment and flaring back up as he tried to say a word. 

“I’ll release that when you decide to be reasonable.”

Smaug picked at the letters, unfolding them here and there and scattering them all over the floor as she started to walk, her skirts moving elegantly with every turn. 

“Ah. You noticed about the upcoming war? I wasn’t quite paying attention to what was going on there these past weeks. Won’t matter to _you_ though.”

Dwalin strained against the curse binding him, fought with every muscle and though he felt the strength he put into his movements, none came. The dragon had truly trapped him, had put him at her nonexistent mercy. He had to warn everyone about just how bad their situation was, and he wouldn’t be able to…

Smaug’s eyes widened for a moment as her grin split in a hideous visage, making her look more like the lizard she was. 

“The _prince_ was here recently? Oh but how _fun_ would it have been to arrive before he left, there’s just so much I owe the royal family.”

For a moment the joy was gone from her face, but then it was right back. She was having fun playing with her prey, and perhaps this was the only reason why she hadn’t tried to cause Dwalin more pain beyond the fiery bind keeping him from speaking. 

She finally dropped the rest of the letters, bored of them it seemed. Instead she went to push some of the pillows off the couch, kicking them away before laying down casually. 

“What would it take to get you to speak?” she mused, pillowing her chin on her crossed arms as she looked up Dwalin. 

The little flutter of her eyelashes was strangely off-putting with the scales slowly starting to glow on her face and the lack of whites in her completely-golden eyes. 

“Would threats of the prince’s safety do it? Or maybe the King. He’ll be lured out of Erebor into the open soon enough. What if I promised to torture him a little extra, just for your disobedience?”

She turned and stretched, raising her leg a little so that her skirt slid down just enough for a small golden shoe to peek out from under the dark fabric. Smaug wiggled it a little, making it catch the light, and Dwalin stared at it, helpless without even being able to speak and threaten her in turn. She’d just laugh at anything he’d say if he could. There was nothing he could do now. 

“Maybe the ship? Would you speak if I burned this pretty thing down to ashes? Would you speak to stop me from gobbling up your loyal crew one by one and as slow as I can while they watch and see what is to come? While you watch and get to decide whether you’re more loyal to a random little girl you let escape without taking any use in her, or to your little friends here?”

She sighed theatrically, letting out a puff of smoke that hung in the air like a rancid cloud. 

“You mortals are so stupid, do you know that? Do you know how stupid you are?”

Smaug rose from the couch again, moving through the room and letting her gloved hands slide over everything, batting over anything that wasn’t nailed down. 

“Is there anything you’d loathe to lose? I suppose some captains don’t care for their crews as much. Or expect them to die with them, which would make this all pointless.”

She looked at him, eyes laughing. 

“You could speak, if you wish to give me some information now.”

Dwalin felt the grip on his throat lessen for a moment, but he gritted his teeth, not even considering betraying Tauriel or Thorin or his crew. He could not save them, no matter what he said, and he would not break from the mere fear of what a dragon might do to him. He would die silent if he had to, would gladly take anything she could throw at him as he stood helpless if it would just aid Thorin in some way and let Tauriel be safe for a little while longer. 

Smaug was a dragon, so she might not have figured out out how much a man could take. Might be she’d kill him too swiftly, and cut any suffering short. At least she had no magic that would force Dwalin to speak against his will. 

He watched her move about his room, sweat running down his brow at the effort to move and the heat around his neck, pulling and tugging again. 

Finally Smaug stopped, looking at the last door of the room, smaller than the others and half hidden by a small curtain. The small walk in closet… 

Dwalin half expected her to ignore it just as she had ignored his bedroom door, but he could not make a sound as she reached out for the handle. 

“Ooooh!”

She stopped in her movement, peering inside, and slowly turned to Dwalin, a grin spreading on her face. 

Cold sweat ran over Dwalin’s back at the sight, and something told him that she’d found what she was looking for, just by that _stare_. 

“Oh _Captain Dwalin_ ,” she cooed, sweet as can be. “Oh, but you have a _sweetheart_?”

She reached towards the closest rack, out of Dwalin’s sight, and pulled out a simple turquoise dress, made out of soft chiffon and decorated with subtle floral print. She held it to her body, excited about it. Nori’s dress was just a touch too short and slim for her, where he lacked curves and her height. 

“My my, and a delicate little thing, isn’t she?”

Smaug threw the dress away carelessly, letting it land on the floor. Despite himself Dwalin felt his body attempt to cringe. She was already reaching for the next one, a beautiful sunflower yellow that Nori hadn’t worn in far too long…

“Is she pretty? Oh of course she is, no ugly broad would wear such delicate things, unless her lover is so stupid to gift her so much…”

She sniffed at the dress. 

“She likes flower perfume? Do you buy her that as well?”

This dress crumpled to the ground as well, and another joined it. 

“Such a _collection_. You’ve known her for years or are very dedicated at bringing her gifts. Is she sweet? I’m sure she is, with such a nice honourable captain.”

Dwalin fought hard not to make a sound as she went on. 

Those were Nori’s things, and he had nothing to do with this, wasn’t even on speaking terms with Dwalin… 

“Is this why you didn’t show any interest in me?” Smaug breathed, her voice a sigh as she ran her hand over her body, another dress scrunched up in her other hand. “How _loyal_ you are, to spurn one such as me. I’ve seen men forget they even had a lover, for hope of a chance with me.”

Slowly the carpet was covered by one dress after the other, some of them scrunched up in ways Dwalin knew the material wouldn’t forgive easily, some ripped at the seam a little as Smaug tugged and examined them, and held them to her body as if she meant to borrow them. 

“Is she your wife? Mistress? Does her family know and this is why all her gorgeous gifts are on your ship? Does she _visit_ you too? Oh, perhaps you have children somewhere? I’d _love_ to meet your family, captain.”

True fear had started clawing at Dwalin’s throat, so strangely cold and constricting compared to the flare of Smaug’s magic. He had denied his love to Nori, had pushed him away, wasn’t speaking to him, and here his affection was still putting him in danger. If Smaug were to find out that the dresses belonged to a man on board of the ship… if she were to figure out they were Nori’s…

“Say, would you speak if I found your little love and brought her here?” Smaug said, putting her finger to her lips as if she was thinking hard. “Would a promise be enough?”

The way Dwalin’s eye twitched must have been answer enough. 

“So, is she enough to be quiet?”

Smaug took another dress out, stepping away from the closet finally. 

“What do you think is worse? Knowing that your love will die horrifically just for knowing you, or knowing that your love will only have your ashes to weep over? I know your people hate the idea of your dead being burned…”

She paused for a moment, holding out the latest dress. It was a pale purple, with dove grey petticoats and adorned with elegant bows and fine lace. Such a beautiful ballgown, fit for the King’s court… It was Nori’s favourite, wasn’t it…?

“Or perhaps,” Smaug said slowly, and Dwalin watched warily as she peeled off one of her gloves. 

The skin on her hands was cracked and smoking, ugly scales all over it with claws growing from her fingers. She spit on the fine fabric, and presumed to run a claw over the dress, ripping it slowly and letting smoke rise. Too late Dwalin realized that she was setting it on fire. 

“Perhaps you will talk if I have her here to burn in front of you just like this?”

She tossed the dress away, a small flame spreading over it, not enough to set the room on fire, but more than enough to ruin the dress completely. 

‘ _That’s Nori’s favourite…_ ’ 

The thought was absurd in such a situation, and yet Dwalin felt the need to apologize to Nori for the ruining of his most prized possessions. 

Smaug stepped away from the scattered fabrics, daintily holding her own skirt out of the way of any flames , until she was right in front of Dwalin. 

It didn’t matter, he would not speak… there was nothing Smaug could use against Dwalin, and she would not be patient for long. A small hope briefly spread in Dwalin’s chest, as he realized that Smaug would never guess that Nori was the owner of the dresses. She would not see more in him than just another crewmember. If they all died, Nori would not suffer more. He’d be clever enough to save at least a few of them, with Smaug not focusing on him… 

He couldn’t even _lie_ in telling her that he had no lover. 

“Look at that,” Smaug crooned as she stepped right in front of Dwalin, looking up at him with delight. “That does rankle you up! If only you could see how defeated you look now. Does that mean you are ready to speak now?” She snapped her fingers.

Dwalin met her eyes again, glaring.

“I have told no lies. If you’re so _bloody clever_ , you’d be able to tell.”

She shrugged. 

“You are a fool, do you know that?”

Smaug reached for the wine bottle and pulled the cork out with her fangs. She spit it out and spilled what was left in the bottle, creating a puddle near the desk. The first dress was still smoldering and burning a little, soon it would spread to the next and ruin that, and the flame might even reach the spilled wine. As if the threat of burning alive would change Dwalin’s resolve. 

“So… you’ve got something you’d like to tell me? Anything?”

“Fuck you,” Dwalin spat. She sighed. 

“Very well.”

Her claws were in Dwalin’s skin in less than a second, tearing through her remaining glove and digging into his throat enough to make him cough at the pain. Smaug’s other hand gripped at Dwalin’s wrist, far stronger than someone of her size should be able to. 

“Do you enjoy pain?” she asked pleasantly. “Because I won’t mind providing it for you.”

The heat increased around Dwalin’s throat, and Smaug’s palm felt like heated iron against his arm. His breath came out in a rasp as her fingers squeezed around his neck, leaving just enough room to for a plea of release. 

“I merely want to know where that brat of a girl went, is this so hard to say? Just a direction, come on now, she couldn’t have been gone for long, I can _smell_ her trace!”

Dwalin’s vision was going white. The heat and pain made him shake, and the only things keeping him upright were Smaug’s hands and her curse that would not even permit him to fall. 

The thought of somehow buying time for the crew to run, for them somehow sending word to Thorin, filled Dwalin with determination. He would not break, and that knowledge braced him against even toying with the possibility even as the blistering pain on his wrist made him want to howl. 

He felt his entire body cramp up as his every muscle struggled to move and could not. It was getting harder to breathe as another of the dresses started to smolder, the smoke getting in Dwalin’s lungs as he already was getting so little air. 

Smaug’s face was turning more and more lizard-like, her eyes blazing. Perhaps she was trying to scare him with it. 

“I could do this all day, you know? I could burn every inch of you and make you beg for air and do it all over without tiring.” 

Dwalin didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see the eyes of the dragon that had brought so much grief to his people. His eyes were starting to water from the smoke and the lack of air, so it was hard to see her even if he’d wanted to. 

His thoughts returned to Nori, briefly regretting that he wouldn’t be able to replace those dresses. He’d not be able to apologize. He’d not be able to say goodbye. 

Thorin knew he was loyal. Both his mother and Balin, and everyone in his family, had always known of Dwalin’s loyalty and affection for them, would not question that. He’d made sure of it when he was a soldier with too many friends dying all around him. 

Only Nori wouldn’t know… 

Oh how Dwalin wished he’d had the time, the _words_ to tell Nori that he loved him, despite everything... 

A violent shake tore him from dwelling on that last regret as Dwalin was shaken by the neck as if he were no heavier than a rag doll. 

“Do you want more?” Smaug hissed as Dwalin wheezed for breath and his head spun. “What is it to you, you know I’ll find what’s mine sooner or later. You’re merely stalling me.”

For a moment Dwalin thought that his flesh was actually burning, but it was just her grip tightening. He managed to glare at her, despite everything, lips pressed firmly together as his nostrils flared. 

If he just had his axes and she weren’t so cowardly as to petrify him! He’d mark her for sure before going down. 

“Will you speak already!?” she snarled, voice rising with a hint of the dragon’s roar in it already. **“What good is loyalty if you will all _burn_**?”

There was a crash, and for a second Dwalin imagined that the ship was breaking apart, but then it came again and Smaug spun around, letting Dwalin see what was going on as well. 

It all went so fast: a heartbeat and the door banged open, lock broken; a heartbeat and the crew was there, opening it by force, Nori in lead; a heartbeat and his eyes widening as Smaug released Dwalin’s wrist and turned to attack; a heartbeat and then Nori was leaping forward, quick as a snake, his knife flashing as he lunged towards Smaug. 

Dwalin would have yelled a warning if he could, but as it was he could only watch as Smaug lashed out to bat away the knife, slashing at Nori’s arm, reaching further to try and get her claws into his body, but he didn’t let go or stop even as he recoiled at the hit. 

There was a brilliant flash, bright and crackling, as lightning filled the room. With brutal force the contained energy of a very small capsule unleashed and struck Smaug right in the chest, throwing her back and towards the desk. She hurtled backwards through the window with a crash, out into the lake below, propelled horizontally several feet through the air. 

Before the glass shards even finished falling Dwalin groaned and fell to his knees, his muscles finally released from the cruel hold, and he’d have fallen further had he not been caught in someone’s arms. 

Voices called for help, but the loud panicked comments and stomping feet made Dwalin’s head spin. 

He coughed and wheezed for air, his entire body throbbing and his lungs protesting the mistreatment. He was vaguely aware of how the hands shifted on him, letting him slide to the ground fully and supporting his head as he fought for breath. 

Out of the corner of his eye Dwalin could see his crew. Bifur was staring at the broken window, eyes wild as he stood perfectly still with the used capsule of lightning still in his arms. Mirra and Sigrid were there, as others pushed past them to see if their captain was alright. Somewhere nearly out of his line of sight Bofur was stomping out the last bit of fire on the burning dresses. 

They could see now… this wasn’t good…

Dwalin’s breath was evening out a little, and the tight feeling around his throat was gone, even if it hurt to take the smallest breath. Nori was there, holding him with his eyes wide in fear. Vision was blurring and reddening at the corners, and Nori kept disappearing out of focus as Dwalin fought to stay conscious. 

“‘m sorry,” he croaked, the rasp of his voice enough to make his vision go red for an entire second at the pain. 

The flaring pain in his left arm was moving to the forefront of his mind as well, and he saw Nori stare there frantically, briefly reaching out as if to touch but thinking better of it. 

“Where’s Óin?” he demanded, “somebody get Óin, NOW!” 

“What did she do,” he asked Dwalin then, his hand moving over Dwalin’s chest and shoulder in quick movements as if he was looking for injury. 

Dwalin tried to shake his head, not managing to do it without his neck and head protesting the pain. He felt sick. 

“I tried-” he went on, trying to explain. “She did something- couldn’t move. Useless, bloody useless.”

He could barely speak but he needed to. 

“Smaug-”

“Shit,” someone cursed from behind, but Nori was ignoring it. 

Nori’s blessedly cool fingers moved over Dwalin’s throat, barely touching as he felt over his skin and carefully touched his neck. 

Dwalin’s breath came out in a wheeze and for a moment he thought he would fall unconscious. Would be nice to not feel the burns for a moment…

“Stay awake, please, you have to stay awake,” Nori’s voice was strained by worry as his fingers moved from Dwalin’s neck to carefully cup his bearded cheek. “You have to stay awake until we know what happened to you.”

Nori’s hand was running through Dwalin’s hair, the drag of his fingers over his scalp such a simple gentle pleasure in stark contrast to the pain throbbing in his body. Nori didn’t stop as Dwalin fought for each breath, petting and running his fingers through Dwalin’s hair as he waited for the captain to come back to himself. 

It didn’t take long, and Dwalin managed to find the ground with his uninjured arm, hissing at the pain as he sat up slowly. Nori’s hands were still supporting him, even if he had stopped touching him gently. By that time Óin had bustled over to them and was examining the captain gently, tutting before announcing that Dwalin was in stable condition.

“You’re injured,” was the first thing Dwalin rasped at Nori as Óin made to leave and prepare something for the burns. He didn’t mean for it to sound so accusing, but he grabbed Nori’s elbow to see the slashes running over his forearm, where he’d angled his arm away and out of sight. 

Smaug’s claws had torn his shirt and skin open, cauterising the wound as it was made. 

Nori pulled his arm free, staring at Dwalin as if he was mad. 

“Who even knows what else that beast did to _you_ and what injuries we aren’t seeing? And why the bloody hell are you still standing around here?” he snapped at the crew. 

Nori’s voice was strained with worry and stress, and finally Mirra and Bombur ushered Bifur away from the window gently. He had been glaring at the broken glass, where Sigrid was cautiously peering out, looking for a trace of the dragon. 

The crew was still staring, but Nori waved them off. 

“How did you know-” Dwalin managed to ask. Surely Smaug’s voice hadn’t been enough to carry to the deck, and even so it wouldn’t have warranted a broken down door.

“We smelled smoke and heard rising voices,” Bofur said with a shrug, “Figured you were in trouble.”

Dwalin threw a look at the dresses. He must not have noticed how badly they’d burned. 

“Did the smoke spread so fast…?”

Bofur looked briefly sheepish at that, and Dwalin got the suspicion that he, or others, had been trying to eavesdrop. His attention was diverted by Nori offering him his hands.

“Can you stand?”

“Yes… yes, Nori listen, go see Óin first… I have to send Thorin… he has to _know_!”

Nori snorted. 

“He’ll hear even later if you collapse.”

He got up, helping Dwalin to get to his feet as well. Dwalin barely managed to remain standing, his muscles feeling abused and powerless. 

It was so strange to lean into Nori so hard, to feel his body flush against his as he spoke gentle encouragement each time Dwalin hissed in pain. 

He helped Dwalin reach the deck, where the entire crew was watching him fearfully. 

“What do we do now?” they asked, shocked to see how badly Dwalin had been hurt. 

Dwalin looked around, the cool air against his sweaty skin making him shiver. Or perhaps it was the fear. 

“Set sail,” he said, barely managing to get the words out. Nori repeated the command, loud enough for everyone to hear so Dwalin would not have to strain his voice any more. 

“There will be war,” Dwalin said gravely as the crew hurried to obey, hoping that it was enough to hear. 

Everyone was still keeping their eye on him, so that was good. 

“Smaug has returned.”

The confirmation was enough to send the entire crew into fearful whispers, but none of them stopped in their task to set the Wind Dancer to rise up into the air within moments. There was no time to lose, Smaug might decide to attack, if she hadn’t already started from below. And they had to go.

“Shouldn’t we chase her, Captain?” asked Sigrid.

“No use, she’d do more damage to us than we could do to her, now that she’s angry,” said Nori. Sigrid frowned worriedly at that, but did not protest. 

“We have to find where her armies are hiding,” Dwalin said. “We must let Thorin know.”

“Your wounds,” Nori reminded him again.

“Get yours looked at first.”

Nori opened his mouth to say something but Glóin saved them from another argument. 

“I will write to his majesty immediately,” he said, face tense. 

That was enough, and Nori started leading Dwalin towards Óin’s cabin as steady as he could. The ship was already off the ground and quickly gaining altitude before the two even disappeared below deck. 

The crew was hurrying around, running to check if everything was secure in place in the storage rooms, and Óin met them halfway, as he’d left his cabin briefly to see what the hold-up was. Muttering something under his breath as he quickly went to prepare enough space for both of them and clear his cot for Dwalin. 

Weakness rolled over Dwalin like a wave as he fought against putting too much weight on Nori. Already he was using both of his hands to support his captain. Dwalin’s head drooped, so close to Nori’s that each pained breath moved the hair that had escaped Nori’s braid. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, not knowing whether he meant how easily Smaug had captured him, or he’d worried everyone and how much danger they were in. Or maybe all he’d done wrong by Nori. Maybe all of those things. 

Nori’s head leaned towards him for a moment, his hair catching against Dwalin’s beard as his hands squeezed his arm briefly. 

“I know,” he said, quietly, sounding too tired.

Dwalin didn’t say anything else as Óin finally tugged them inside his cabin to treat the burns and scratches, merely let his first mate support him. And as Nori didn’t pull away or show any signs of displeasure other than his tense worry, Dwalin simply held on to him and breathed in his soothing familiar scent. 

They would be alright. 

*

Cold water rolled off her with a slosh as Smaug broke through the surface, spitting and screaming in rage. She was quite a way from the shore, the lake’s current having pushed her around before she finally managed to come up for air. 

The lightning might have been nothing to the _dragon’s_ shape, but right now Smaug had to be glad it had been too weak to knock her out for good. Weak enough not to kill her, but strong enough to throw her through a window. And hadn’t _that_ been embarrassing. 

She hissed as her eyes finally found the dock, and saw it was abandoned. A quick scan of the sky showed her that the Wind Dancer was already off, catching the wind quickly and growing smaller in the distance. 

Again Smaug raged as she splashed in the water helplessly. How _dare_ these worms treat her like this? Even without looking she could tell that her body was injured, cracks spread on her skin as she could not turn her scales smooth again, and one of her legs seemed to have stopped working. She would have been dead if not for what she was. 

Her dress was burned and ruined over her chest, her hair a mess along with the rest of her body, and it hurt to try and swim in the icy water. Smaug gurgled in fury, releasing a stream of fire from her lips as she paddled towards the shore in a less-than-dignified way. 

This had not gone to plan, she was supposed to have gotten information out of that mortal. She’d been so close too, to either killing or getting what she needed, if not for his blasted crew. Somehow it got harder and harder to get a sense for the star’s directions the longer it wandered the ground, either because it was starting to lose its otherworldly scent, or because it grew stronger in protecting itself. Either way, its heart would carry the same power as before. 

Limping up away from the lake, dripping water as she went, Smaug growled quietly. 

No matter, she would find a way… she would pay them back…the whole lot of the royal family and their allies 

A grin spread on her face as she caught her breath. 

There were other things to hunt down first. 

The horses hadn’t run, foolish beasts. Within minutes she was rushing over the land again, watching the glow and cracking of her skin as she held on to her chariot. Nobody would be fooled by her disguise anymore, but no matter. She had Orcs on her side. 

She would get what she wanted.


	45. Rainfall

Rain was falling hard, reducing the visibility to a handful of yards while the pitter-patter of droplets muffled the sounds of the entire village. The innkeeper laughed as he saw the three who’d entered in his establishment, waving them in.

“Come on over here to the fire,” he invited, gesturing to where a couple of locals were sitting near the fire and drinking. “There’s mulled wine and hot milk for everyone. No dripping coats please, there are hooks over there.”

Trailing water behind him Fíli removed his cloak and went over to ask for three beds, while Tauriel and Kíli shrugged out of their waterlogged coats. Tauriel had managed to stay mostly dry underneath all of it, having had the foresight to tie her hair back and put up her hood as soon as the first raindrops hit, while Kíli looked like a drowned rat and didn’t look pleased to say the least.

Fíli returned with a smile and tried to brush his damp hair back to have it lay a little neater. The effect was that of a lion cub after its first attempt at grooming.

“There. We have two rooms now, so one lucky fellow (or miss) will get a room to themselves. We’re even getting baths, if we wish to.”

“That would be nice,” Tauriel sighed, and edged towards the fire. She’d told them more than once that being cold and rained on while wandering was not something she liked about Arda. Not that Kíli could blame her. Ships, she groused, at least had no mud.

They put up their coats with the others, close to the fire so they would be warm and dry quicker. Some of the guests sitting close to the fire looked up at the strangers curiously. One of them raised his cup.

“Come join us for a drink,” he called. “This rain’s a good excuse for a nice time while the work can’t be done.”

Another snickered and shook her head.

“My wife wanted me to fix a hole in the roof but that’s not happening in _this weather_.”

“Nothing is happening in this weather but a nice fire. Come, fetch some chairs and we’ll get you some wine in exchange for a tale or two.”

Fíli grinned and shook his head.

“As much as we’d like to take you up on that offer, we’d rather eat something warm before we l we resemble half-starved wargs. You should have seen him yesterday before lunch,” he gestured at Kíli, who elbowed him as the patrons laughed.

The serving-maid had cleared a small table in the corner, and approached with a tray of steaming mugs and a refill pitcher for the three. Fíli bowed his head to the locals and motioned at his companions to follow him to their seats. 

It was a cosy corner. The lamps made up for the lack of firelight reaching them, and the entire inn was well warmed. There was a window by their side, showing a wet gloom that made the inn all the more appealing.

Kíli sighed and stretched a little as soon as their packs had been tucked under their seats.

“I thought I’d never be warm again,” he said as he held his hands to his mug of wine.

They toasted and drank right away. It warmed Kíli to the core, and had a very sweet aftertaste from one of the spices he couldn’t recognize. As fun as the past weeks had been, this was the best feeling yet, warm and comfortable after so long out in the cold. It had rained a couple of times, but not so hard as to actually hinder them in their path, never more than what a hood or a sleeping space under some pines wouldn’t take care of.

“Don’t get drunk on that,” Fíli joked as Kíli reached for the pitcher for a refill, and only received a briefly stuck out tongue in reply.

The serving-maid returned with a tray of food, and after that there wasn’t much opportunity to talk. They were given three bowls of stew along with a plate of bread for them to share; Kíli was so hungry that he burned his tongue on the stew and had to stuff his mouth with bread to cool it down.

Fíli snorted at that and even Tauriel could barely hide her grin as she examined her own bowl. By the time Kíli managed to swallow his first mouthful, the stew had cooled a little and he started eating more carefully. Various vegetables had been chopped into the broth, making it a very hearty meal. There was no meat in it, but rather something akin to a river crayfish, with yellow and pink flesh. It tasted great, whatever it was, and Kíli felt completely sated and happy by the time his spoon scratched the bottom.

It was still early in the evening, much sooner than they would have started camp if they had been out in the wild, even if the clouds made it seem like night had fallen hours ago. There was nothing much to do but lean back and sip the wine as they enjoyed the voices coming from the locals around their fire. They couldn’t make out words, but it was nice to be somewhere with many people around and warmth and food they didn’t have to cook themselves.

“I’m glad to be out of the rain,” Tauriel said as he tried to peer out of the window. “But even if the weather had been fine, this _is_ a much welcomed break.”

“We can have proper beds without kicking away small pebbles for ages,” Fíli sighed in relief.

“And a bath too.”

They both sighed at the thought.

“I’ve nearly forgotten what a bath feels like,” said Fíli.

“I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have clean hair,” said Kíli. Tauriel wrinkled her nose but ruffled his wet hair nonetheless.

Fíli smiled and rested his elbows on the table, looking at his companions expectantly.

“We have some time to kill,” he announced. “So let’s have a story. I for one would love to hear that secret you owe me.”

He looked at Tauriel for a moment, who levelled him with a cool stare and raised eyebrow, before he turned to Kíli, leaning on his arms more as if settling for a long tale.

Kíli stopped nibbling at his piece of bread and glanced at Tauriel nervously. She was watching too though, as if she’d want to hear a story.

“Well…” he said finally, thinking about it.

“It’s not like I _have_ secrets. I really can only talk about interesting things that I don’t even know the truth of myself.”

“That’s fine, I just want to hear a story.”

Tauriel nodded in agreement, and Kíli sighed.

“I don’t know who my mother is,” he started. 

“That’s not a secret?” scoffed Fíli. “Many people don’t. Surely you can do better than that.”

“Fine,” scowled Kíli. “My father said that she is such a secret that I couldn’t even be told her _name_. He only told me that he lived in Erebor for a while, that she was a magician of sorts. Lady Blackbird he called her, and that’s it.”

Fíli looked a little disappointed as Kíli didn’t say anything else.

“A magician… I know of a few in the cities, but none of them are of an age to be your mother. Maybe she was a forest witch of some sort?”

Kíli nodded.

“My father said that my family from Arda was in grave danger, and there’s some who’d hurt me just for who I am related to. That’s why he took me away to England.”

Tauriel looked at Kíli with sympathy, and Fíli frowned as his eyes moved over the table, deep in thought.

“I don’t doubt that any magician or soldier of some renown would attract negative attention from our enemies. If your mother bothered the wrong kind of people there’d have been attacks directed especially at her. I suppose it’s a good thing that your father kept your heritage a secret..”

Kíli nodded, absentmindedly tearing at his bread as Fíli remembered what that war had been like. It kept being mentioned, and more and more Kíli got the impression that his father had barely escaped something horrible. Something Erebor had recovered from, but something that still made people who remembered it go quiet.

“I can understand why my father would want to leave,” he said miserably. “But I wish I could have grown up here instead.”

Fíli and Tauriel shared a look, and Kíli shook his head with a smile. No need to make them feel sorry for him.

“Well I’m here _now_.”

He raised his cup.

“And I met you.”

Fíli raised his cup with a chuckle, grinning back at Kíli.

“To this fortunate meeting!”

The corners of Tauriel’s eyes crinkled as she raised hers, and Kíli could feel his cheeks flushing.

They drained their cups and Tauriel finally stood up from her seat.

“I think I’ll see about that bath until it’s too late,” she told the boys, before walking towards the innkeeper to ask for directions.

As soon as she was out of sight Fíli leaned towards Kíli with a secretive smile.

“There’s two rooms and it doesn’t matter who takes which one,” he said, quieter than before, and Kíli leaned closer as well. “I really don’t mind being on my own for the night, so you two might appreciate the privacy.”

Kíli stared at him blankly until Fíli shrugged.

“If I had the opportunity I’d be glad of it, I’ve never actually gotten to spend an entire night with Ori…”

His cheeks flushed and he looked away quickly. Kíli felt his entire body heat up at the thought as well.

“I…” he started, suddenly wishing it hadn’t come up at all. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking about that, I didn’t even… uh…”

“It’s fine to be nervous, you don’t have to explain anything,” Fíli said, and he looked so genuinely kind in his reassurance that Kíli shut his mouth.

Fíli gave him one last encouraging smile before picking up one of their packs.

“I’ll go see about getting these up to our rooms. Can you help me? You can have the next bath if you want.”

Kíli obeyed and hefted their belongings onto his back. He found some clothes he’d only recently washed by a river and held them nervously while Fíli dragged his own bag to his room, and waited there until it was his turn for the bath.

“Have fun,” Fíli told him as he clapped him on the shoulder, and Kíli was too nervous to ask whether he meant the relaxing bath or something else.

Kíli sat in the small bathtub, crouching in the water so that everything up to his nose was submerged in the heat. It had washed away the last bit of cold lingering in his bones, and Tauriel had reassured him that the beds were as warm as anybody could hope for in such weather. He wouldn’t freeze once he left the bathing chamber, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to get up.

His cheeks and ears were hot as he thought of Tauriel’s smile, and the way Fíli had grinned cheekily, but also as if he were genuinely happy for Kíli. 

Kíli sighed out through his mouth and watched a few bubbles pop in the water. At least Fíli hadn’t been lewd in the way the lads from home would have been. In truth, he’d been kind, supportive… Kíli wanted to be grateful for the opportunity, wanted to be glad and think that Fíli had only meant to give him and Tauriel some privacy to talk and just be together. Of course it wasn’t _that_.

He wasn’t sure why the thought of bedding Tauriel made him so unhappy. It shouldn’t. And while Kíli might have been fine to just ignore it and not mention anything to anyone, he didn’t know what Tauriel herself would think. Wouldn’t she think that maybe Kíli wasn’t the right one for her?

Barely resisting the urge to let himself sink into the water completely, Kíli closed his eyes. There was no use in worrying. Perhaps he could just go to Tauriel and tell her. She would understand, right? Even if she might decide that she wouldn’t be happy like this.

With a new spark of courage Kíli climbed out of the bathtub and went to dry himself off. The clothes from his pack had been placed on a heating stone earlier and were perfectly cosy. Feeling comfortable made Kíli feel a little braver, even if he still felt queasy about the impending conversation, and how Tauriel would react.

Nobody was in the corridor as Kíli left the bath, and only faint sounds of merriment carried from downstairs. Only the rain was still audible.

Kíli passed the room Fíli had occupied and knocked to let him know that he could take a bath. Then he took one last breath and marched towards Tauriel’s door stiffly. He didn’t let himself hesitate lest nervousness get the better of him, but rapped his knuckle against the wood before quickly entering.

He pressed his back against the door as soon as he had slipped in, glancing around.

Tauriel smiled up at him from where she was sitting at the small dressing table in the corner.

“Feeling better with less dirt on you?” she asked, and Kíli could only nod.

She was wearing a loose shirt from the Wind Dancer, her damp hair falling over her back in tangles. Tauriel wasn’t even done combing it out yet, but she paused in it as she saw Kíli’s expression.

“Fíli said that we could share this room. That’s fine with you, isn’t it?”

Kíli nodded weakly, and glanced to the side.

“Yes…” 

Tauriel looked at him expectantly, and when Kíli didn’t speak she held out her comb to him.

“Can you help me brush out the rest of the tangles here? I don’t want to go to sleep with my hair still damp and messy.”

Kíli nodded, eagerly taking the comb. That he could do. Tauriel couldn’t actually look him in the eye if he was combing out her hair, which would make things less uncomfortable.

“We haven’t been on our own for months, have we? Unless you count the Wind Dancer’s quieter moments, but somehow you never _feel_ alone with the crew so close,” Tauriel joked, and Kíli’s brows furrowed at the thought of what everyone seemed to expect of him.

His hands were steady as he worked out the tangles in her hair until it was smooth, trying to think of what to tell her.

“Y-yes. Seems like we’re… supposed to take the chance and sleep together? In the, um, biblical sense and not just, you know, _sleeping_ , because we’ve been doing that anyway and you don’t really need to be alone for that, heh… Ah, I mean, just because of all of this, I suppose one would expect that we’d… You’ve been sleeping through the nights now, haven’t you? Must have been weird to get used to. Though I suppose even if you’re not a star it might be nice to doze during the day, I could probably sleep the whole day through if we weren’t out in the open. It’s a lot warmer, sleeping during the day, which you’d know since you’re a star, but then again you live in the night sky so you wouldn’t really get to feel the sun-“

“Kíli…”

Kíli shut his mouth, his fingers clenching around the comb. As he peeked up he saw Tauriel watching him in the old mirror’s reflection, frowning in worry.

“Are you nervous about… _this_?”

A scowl, then a nod.

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

A headshake.

“It just seems like… As if Fíli expected us to… you know… sleep together. Be intimate I mean.”

Kíli looked away, and Tauriel didn’t say anything.

“This is the most perfect opportunity in the history of perfect opportunities, and any other couple would be over the moon about it, but I…”

He made a miserable noise as he tried to think of how best to describe the knot in his stomach.

“But you don’t want that.”

It was a statement, not a question, but Tauriel didn’t sound upset by it. She turned on her chair to look up at Kíli.

“No,” he agreed.

They were quiet for a while before Kíli spoke again.

“It’s not like I don’t want to be with you. I mean, I… I think you're the most beautiful woman in all the worlds I've seen, which is two, and more than most people get to see. I just… when I told you, before, that I wasn’t into women intimately, that apparently wasn’t something that would change just because I feel in love with one. I never wanted it with anyone, I think. Not once. I didn’t want you to be disappointed that I couldn’t...” he paused to think, “...satisfy you.”

“I understand,” Tauriel said with a small smile of reassurance. “Don’t worry about that, we don’t have to do anything at all. Just because others are not in our position, does not mean that we need to do anything on their behalf.”

Kíli smiled in relief.

“So you’re not upset?”

“No, why should I be?”

Kíli’s cheeks heated up and Tauriel raised her eyebrows.

“Did you think I’d be upset if you told me you don’t want to be intimate with me?”

“Uh… I don’t want you to not have something you might like just because I don’t. I want you to be happy with me because I really do love you-”

He nearly startled when Tauriel’s hand covered his, as she hadn’t moved otherwise.

“I wouldn’t be happy doing anything you don’t enjoy, even if I wanted it. And in any case, I don't actually desire shared pleasure, at least not with a burning _need_. I have explored pleasure by myself since coming to Arda, and found it quite enjoyable, but do not feel that it is your duty as my love to give me more that what you are able. I am quite satisfied with your company and your sweet kisses and your embrace, if you are satisfied with mine.”

Kíli was sure his face was beet-red at her frankness (a glance in the mirror confirmed this was true), but he could also feel a weight lift off his heart.

He squeezed her hand back, more at ease now. After nudging Tauriel back to how she was sitting he started combing her hair again.

“I think this is how I’ve felt for a long time, though I didn’t know what exactly it _was_ for quite some time,” Kíli went on as Tauriel listened curiously.

“Not wanting to sleep with anyone, I mean. That is why I thought I didn’t love girls. I must have been in love quite a few times without realizing. It was expected to want … that and a family, but I never did. Loving a man felt safer, somehow, even though we had to keep it a secret. You’re the first person I’ve actually kissed in public since that time I was caught with Lizzy Hempstock behind the tree at her birthday party, did you know? I was only 13 and she a dashing older lady of 14 at the time...”

He was rambling again, but Tauriel nodded in understanding.

“I can’t imagine what it would be like to be raised with such expectations,” she said. “I had none, except to be a good star, to shine and be distant to the goings-on of the world beneath the sky.”

They remained in comfortable silence as Kíli brushed out Tauriel’s hair. Only the gentle smattering of rain above the slanted ceiling filled the silence.

Once Kíli was done he took a step away, shrugging.

“I’ll get going then. You probably are quite fed up of sharing your sleeping quarters with stinky snoring men by now, aren’t you?”

Tauriel shrugged in acknowledgement at that statement, but got up as well.

“Are good night kisses still acceptable?”

Kíli nearly tripped over his own feet as he nodded eagerly. Tauriel grinned, and brushed her hand over the rough stubble of his cheek. The kiss was fleeting and sweet, just as lovely as the other ones they’d shared.

“Good night, Kíli,” she said with a smile, rubbing their noses together.

“Good night,” he whispered, barely audible, heart pounding in his chest, filled with as much love for her as with relief.

There was _nothing_ worrying Kíli now.

*

Fíli was lying on his bed, reading letters by the lamplight as Kíli dragged his bag into the room. Fíli looked up in surprise, putting the writing aside.

“Is everything fine?” he asked, as Kíli dropped down on the second narrow bed of the room with a content sigh.

“Hm?” he glanced up to see the prince now genuinely concerned.

“Yes, everything went great, we just decided I should sleep here. If that’s fine by you?”

Fíli nodded, but he was still watching Kíli expectantly, waiting for answers. Perhaps still too confident from how well it had gone, Kíli shrugged.

“I’m very happy about the opportunity… but… we don’t need to. I don’t like that sort of thing? I’m content with just her sweet kisses and her hand in mine.”

“Oh.”

Fíli looked to the side, before raising his eyebrow and glancing back at Kíli.

“Why didn’t you say so when I told you about the rooms? I wouldn’t have teased you.”

“I hadn’t even told Tauriel at that point,” Kíli defended his awkward silence.

“You told her now, though?”

“Yes. I just feared that it wouldn’t go well. It did, though.”

“Good.”

Fíli relaxed against his pillow again, and shifted through the letters again before putting them away.

Kíli watched him for a moment as he pillowed his head on his elbow.

“What’s it like?” he asked after a while. “You said you’d love such an opportunity but I just can’t imagine…”

Fíli’s cheeks flushed as he smiled.

“I’d love to spend the night with Ori one day… Soon maybe. We never… you know… We actually _do_ things if we have the time, when Dori isn’t hanging around, but we can’t actually stay together for an entire night.”

He thought for a moment.

“We wouldn’t even do much, you know? Just cuddle up together… afterwards, spend time together. We never can, as we so rarely meet in person and can’t have anyone know we haven’t slept in our own beds, when we are together. I will propose to her as soon as I can do so without distracting the entire court from more urgent matters, and then we can be together openly. No more storage closets.” He sighed wistfully.

Fíli sounded so happy and sincere as he said it that Kíli couldn’t help the ridiculous grin that spread across his face. 

“You really do love her… Properly looooooooveee her!” he taunted good-naturedly, palms pressing at his cheeks.

Fíli huffed and threw one of his pillows across the room, hitting Kíli square in the face as he couldn’t roll away quick enough. He laughed and tucked it under his head instead of throwing it back at Fíli. 

“Go to sleep now, or I’ll tell you all the raunchy details of what happens in those storage closets when Dori’s out shopping!” Fíli threatened and leaned up to snuff out the lamp. 

“You wouldn’t,” Kíli shot back, but pulled the blanket up to his chin nevertheless. 

Fíli shook his head with a smirk and settled down himself. 

“Good night, Kee.”

Kíli smiled at the nickname and closed his eyes. Everything was perfect and comfortable and right, and he drifted off to the sound of rain.


	46. Dark Clouds Ahead

The first night was cold. It appeared that it might stay cold for some time, with the window broken, and no time to steer the Wind Dancer to port for repairs. The blanket Mirra and Bofur had fastened to fill the gap only served to make the Captain’s office darker, and didn’t keep the wind out at all.

Nori shifted on the chair he’d dragged up to Dwalin’s bedroom, huddling into the blanket around his shoulders. This place was the coldest part of the ship’s interior now. But even if it were warm, Nori wouldn’t have wanted to be in Dwalin’s room in the first place. All personal matters aside, somebody had to guard him in his sleep just in case. Just in case the dragon could return unseen. Just in case his injuries were worse than expected. _Just in case._

Dwalin slept quietly on the bed, his strained and sometimes irregular breaths the only thing to be heard besides the ship’s regular noise. Whatever the dragon had done to lock away his voice must have been paining him.

Despite himself, Nori would stiffen and worry each time the sound of breathing stopped, but every time he’d look at his Captain fearfully he could see the rise and fall of his chest.

There was a bandage around Dwalin’s neck, with something to cool and quicken the healing. Óin had treated the burns on his arms as well, saying that they would heal completely if Dwalin was careful not to strain it too much.

Nori involuntarily touched the bandage on his own arm, where the creature had clawed at him. 

He would be glad if he’d never have to see her again, though he suspected that he would very soon. It was too much to hope that Smaug had died from a lightning strike, or would let them pass by safely if she ever saw them again.

Though the Wind Dancer wouldn’t do much good in actual battle, it was obvious to everyone that Dwalin would not sit idle while his family led an army to protect Erebor; even without fighting, a sky ship was of some use. And though the chances of survival against a dragon were pitifully low, nobody had chosen to leave the ship as Dwalin informed the crew of his plans. He would not force anyone to follow him, but the only response to his offer to leave was a bellow of a challenge from his loyal crew.

Nori had briefly toyed with the idea of running, as he always did in face of danger he couldn’t resolve by staying, but _where_ would he even go? He did not want to return to his previous lifestyle of trickery and wandering. He did not want to survive another barely-won war only to live in poverty once again. And Erebor could just as well fall this time round, and Nori didn’t know if his sisters would agree to flee with him to Harad, to Rhun and the Orocarni or further, as far away as they could. 

No, leaving was no option. And despite himself, Nori _wanted_ to stay on the ship even if there _was_ a safe way out. It was his home. Despite everything, the ship was where Dwalin was, and Nori could not picture himself at any other’s side. No matter how Dwalin had treated him.

Nori glanced towards where Dwalin slept, bracing his chin on his hand.

He didn’t know what to feel about Dwalin anymore, though he knew the ache under all of his anger, confusion and worry meant that he didn’t really have a choice about who his heart had chosen. Dwalin had clung to him, had accepted and calmed at Nori’s soft touch and had sought out closeness for as long as he could.

And Nori craved it, wanted to give comfort gladly, selfishly wanted Dwalin to hold onto him in his pain, just to be held at all. Wanted Dwalin’s soft words and tired smile, if just to not be stared at with cold disappointment. Even now, as Bifur sat before the door and Nori was alone and cold and tired, he wanted it. 

Nori briefly thought about leaning over to kiss him. Stealing kisses, very suitable for a thief, wasn’t it?

Yet at the same time Nori had put his chair as far away from the bed as he could. He didn’t want to be here, and the only thing that kept him was the _need_ to know that Dwalin was fine.

Dwalin had still said those things… Had still dismissed Nori so harshly based on… nothing but rank?

Much as he wanted to just relax and enjoy what little scraps of affection he could get, Nori was no fool to let anyone do that to him twice. Brushes with death were not reliable ways of judging people’s true feelings.

A knock on the door made Nori jump and nearly reach for his knife. Nobody would knock without getting past Bifur though, and when the door opened it was Bofur’s head sticking into the room.

“Did something happen,” Nori asked quietly as he settled back on his chair.

Bofur just shook his head and stepped in, hands behind his back. Nori watched as Bofur looked at the captain with a small nod of relief.

“Came to relieve you here,” he said.

“No need, go back to what you were doing before.”

“I was napping after work, ‘m not doing anything important. But you need rest.”

Nori wanted to protest, tell him that he needed to make sure Dwalin had somebody to watch over him, but Bofur was right. What sense was there in having the first mate exhausted as he stood in for the captain? He hadn’t eaten in too long, and he was exhausted with only the cold sharpening his senses.

“Yes,” he agreed and stood up, gathering the blanket around his shoulders to drag it along.

Before he could leave, Bofur pulled a small bundle from behind his back and held it out to Nori. For a moment he wasn’t sure what it was, before he realized that it was the lace of one of the ruined dresses Smaug had dragged out of his walk-in-wardrobe.

Fear made Nori’s heart clench at the sight of it in Bofur’s hands. He’d managed not to think about that at all, but here it was, the secret revealed, and none of them would take him seriously anymore and the word would spread so nobody-

“The dress was burned but we could salvage this,” Bofur said, voice apologetic as if he’d personally set the dresses on fire. “Don’t know anything about this sort of stuff but apparently lace is really valuable and this one’s pretty? Would have been a shame to throw it out.”

He handed it to Nori, who was too surprised to push it from him. Instead he peered down, trying to see details in the dark room. The lace was from one of his favourite dresses, very delicate with gorgeous patterns and a hint of shine. There were spots that weren’t right, Nori realized; somebody had mended it in such a way that it would be easy to reattach it to a dress and hide the irregularity.

“Some of it was singed and torn,” Bofur went on explaining. “But Sigrid showed us how she’d mend things back home and then I tried help Bombur fix it as well as we could. No idea how that pattern’s made though. We put the salvageable dresses neatly away, promise, won’t be a wrinkle on them, and Sigrid said she’d look them over and help us fix anything that can be fixed. Wouldn’t be right to have your things broken and not mended.”

Nori was speechless for a moment, staring at the mechanic. There was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t quite work past. He’d been so afraid… But there was nothing but honest regret and sincerity in Bofur’s face. This was his crew, and none of them would lie just to make Nori feel better about himself. They weren’t… judging him. Weren’t snickering about the sharp unapproachable ex-thief having such a collection of petticoats and delicate lace and soft dresses.

He blinked hard as he smiled at Bofur. It was crooked and tense, but still the first genuine smile Nori had managed in way too long.

“Thank you,” he just said, trying to sound as if it was just some spare sail Bofur had taken care of, and not quite succeeding

Bofur returned the smile, heartfelt enough to put anyone at ease. So easygoing… Sometimes Nori wished to be the same.

Bofur clasped his shoulder, looking at Nori in such a way that the first mate couldn’t help thinking that Bofur had guessed at the anxiety Nori had carried in him over this. Nori clasped Bofur’s shoulder in turn and nodded gratefully, and with a last glance back to make sure that Dwalin was still as he was before, wrapped his blanket around himself and left.

He passed Bifur, who didn’t seem to freeze in his thick coat at all, to the door that Nori had avoided since the argument with Dwalin. His room was just as cold as Dwalin’s had been, though with a little less draft.

Nori managed to blindly light the small lamp on his desk, and kicked off his boots and outer layers of clothes before climbing into bed (with a blessedly vast amount of soft blankets). He was not one to stay up and worry when there was nothing he could do. At least not willingly.

Nori stared at the tiny light his lamp provided. On normal days it was enough to illuminate his room enough to feel safe and secure. Perhaps thanks to the nights spend on the hard and cold ground of a storage room, Nori felt himself relax into the pillows quickly considering the anxiety of what was to come nagging at his heart. He was warm and where he belonged, and he would face whatever came tomorrow.

With that comfortless thought, Nori slipped into dreamless sleep. 

*

Thorin’s hands felt numb as he shifted through the letters he’d received so late at night. It wasn’t normal for him to be brought such things as late as it was now, as even the more urgent correspondence could wait until the next morning. Not this time.

Captain Itîm had carried the letters to him with a haunted expression and a weary raven on her shoulder, barely apologizing for having disturbed him at such an hour. 

The feeling of dread at sensing the urgency hadn’t gone away, as Thorin had foolishly hoped while reading. Scattered reports from the few scouts daring to cross into the deeper valleys and mountain paths of Ered Mithrim told of what was undoubtedly an army preparing to march, of proportions that promised similar pain to twenty years ago.

And a pale Orc had been spotted, blade protruding from his severed arm.

And if that alone wasn’t enough, the second letter had been Dwalin’s words written by Glóin’s hand, as he warned of _Smaug_ of all things. The drake had somehow awoken, seemingly strong enough to easily overpower a mortal, and had only been fought off by chance and catching her off guard.

She was looking for a star.

There couldn’t be one, Thorin knew it, and the Arkenstone itself would not yield any magic for the dragon to consume, even if she found what she was looking for. They would be safe… Unless she decided to take revenge on them of their defiance... 

“Your Highness,” Itîm asked carefully, her voice unsure.

“What will we do?”

She had been too young to go into battle the last time, still just a guard in training and needed at the palace defenses. She would not know how dire the situation was.

“We have no choice,” Thorin said, voice weak.

The Orcs had to be crushed swiftly in order to protect the people on the borders, or it wouldn’t be just the borderlands in danger, but all of Erebor. There had to be hope that it wouldn’t be as devastating as last time…

“Immediately send messages to the north and to Dáin. The city’s soldiers are to ready themselves. Alert all cities and larger settlements on our way, so that everyone who can will join us. We shall march as soon as possible,” Thorin ordered, voice as authoritative as he’d need it to be in the following days, weeks or Maker forbid, months.

Itîm and the raven bowed, before she quickly retreated and Thorin was on his own once more.

He stared after her for a moment, before looking up at the sky through the high windows of his rooms. At least they had time to prepare, at least the Orcs weren’t already wreaking havoc like last time.

Lawara would not like it, but Thorin knew he had to be there and travel and fight with the rest of his people. He had trained with the guards and warriors since he could hold a wooden sword in his hand. A King who could fight _had_ to. Perhaps it was a trap, but the alternative was a festering Orc army being given all the time it needed to attack at will.

The brief thought of how the entire line of Durin was in danger crossed Thorin’s mind. Smaug would want to see them all dead, his only heir was too close to Ered Mithrim for comfort, the other heir had been lost or dead since the last war, Dís was lost to them and even Thorin’s cousins would join the war, knowing them. 

They would not go down without a fight, but if the Maker’s grace could not protect them, what hope was there for the rest?

Thorin sighed heavily, the weight of it all settling on his shoulders. He called for a servant and bid them to ready his armour. There was no sense in worrying now. He would have the entire time it took to travel to Ered Mithrim for that. 

*

“The Orcs are doing it again!”

Dís looked up from her stitching, frowning at the wizard as Radagast moved about his house, frantically searching for something.

“Have they not learned their lesson yet?”

For weeks Radagast had taken her along to the northwestern parts of the forest, hunting down trespassers and protecting the wizard’s realm. Over and over they’d find small groups of Orcs deciding that it was easier to cross the forest than trying to deal with Ered Mithrim’s rocky cliffs in this parts of the mountain range. They’d also decided that it would be entertaining to damage trees and hunt animals for sport on the way. They had not expected a wizard.

It was a strange kind of satisfaction to fight and let out all her rage on the creatures that had hurt Dís so much in the past, that had taken her children and her husband away and had killed her grandfather and brother.

Though the wizard had no sword for Dís, she’d made do with the largest knives of his little kitchen, with tools and heavy objects and hammers and axes that were too small for war but more than enough for the princess. She’d tuck as many as she could under her belt and follow Radagast to take down as many intruders as she could. Those who were not felled by her magic were finished with her makeshift blades. She was gradually accumulating a small collections of Orc weapons as well, those that were not too crude and unwieldy for her hands.

Now Radagast seemed much more frantic than Dís had seen him at such occasions. He picked up things from the boxes and shelves in the mess of his house, and gathered them in his arms only to toss the things away moments later.

Dís watched for a few more moments before she returned her attention to the shawl in her lap. It was cold at night now, which was the time most Orcs decided to show their visages. This shawl had been fine to wear in battle, but one lucky Orc had tried to sneak up and had torn it before Dís could sink her hammer into the attacker’s face.

“Do we have to leave again?” she asked after putting her shawl on. Her eyes were already seeking out the places she had put her usual makeshift weapons after cleaning them.

“There’s more,” Radagast whispered. “There’s an _army_.”

Dís froze, her hand halfway to the hammer.

“Army?”

This couldn’t be right. Surely Radagast was just using this word to describe a larger quantity of Orcs all at once.

“There’s so many gathering. Not as many as years ago, but too many. Something is happening.”

Her heart sank.

This couldn’t be happening. 

“Such things aren’t right,” Radagast rattled on, “there’s no reason for Orcs to suddenly flock together like that, unless they are afraid or are sure that there’s not too much risk for them-“

He paused, standing completely still for a moment, face darker than Dís had ever seen it before. Actually _serious_ for once.

“The dragon,” he said, voice a sharp rumble. “It’s the dragon’s return that brought them out.”

Dís stared at him, teeth clenched. Somehow there was no fear in her heart now, only rage. Rage and the wish to do something about Smaug, pay her back for all she’d done; the imprisonment in the forest and the deaths and losses their family had endured. Pay her back because Dís had been trapped for more years than she had seen her sons

“I will take care of this,” Radagast muttered as he started stuffing all his gathered clutter into his many pockets. “I must make sure that the Orcs don’t go anywhere… It’s my duty yes.”

He hurried towards the door and Dís saw several small mice jump out of their hiding spots to run up Radagast’s coat and hide with him instead.

“No, wait!” she called, quickly grabbing the makeshift weapons in reach to tuck them under her belt even as she hurried after him.

“What do you even plan to do?”

Her answer came in the form of Radagast preparing his rabbit sledge.

“You surely don’t mean to leave and fight them in the open?”

So far it had been easy enough to defeat Orcs of the forest, with a wizard and warrior and a bit of magic. But in the open, outside Radagast’s familiar playing field...

“I will at least watch and decide there,” Radagast replied.

He checked the reins of his sledge and looked up at Dís.

“And you shall assist me!”

Before Dís could protest he hurried towards her and took her arm, gently but still in an iron grip.

Dís let him push her down to sit on the sledge, where she at least could hold on.

“I can’t leave the forest!” She protested, wondering what the curse would do to her if somebody carried her out on such a sledge. Most likely she would fall off and be lost, and somehow end up alone in the little house. Not pleasant.

“Nonsense! You are quite good with Orcs, I must say,” Radagast said reassuringly. 

“You don’t understand, I can’t _leave_ ,” Dís snapped, trying to stand up, but then Radagast called to the rabbits and they sped ahead, and all Dís could do was to cling to the sledge for her life.

*

The cold of the room and the whooshing of the wind past the broken window made Dwalin feel like he was somewhere high up on the rigging instead of at his desk. A heating stone lay wrapped in some rags at the edge of the desk, providing a little warmth. Other than that, there wasn’t much he could do about the cold.

Dwalin ignored for the most part. Thorin’s letter had arrived just hours ago, carried by a very exhausted and worried raven. 

There was to be war, just as Smaug had said.

Thorin would lead their warriors himself, and specified where exactly they would march and where Dwalin was supposed to hover and wait. It wasn’t clear where the Orcs would attack yet, so Thorin’s generals had been ordered to update Dwalin by raven.

For now, all the Wind Dancer could do was fly back and forth a few miles south of Ered Mithrim and wait.

Dwalin rubbed his throat and winced at how rough it was even after several days with Óin’s excellent care and (rare) pleasant-tasting medicine. The burns still hurt, but he would not be hindered by the time the battles would start, should he need to join for whatever reason. For now there was no use in trying to worry about that too much. He’d long learned that nothing came of thinking about a battle too much before it happened, unless you were the one to lead and give orders.

Trying to distract himself from that train of thought Dwalin glanced around the room, and his eyes fell on Nori’s coat hanging on the closet’s door that still didn’t close quite right.

Things were… better with Nori. Dwalin didn’t feel any bitterness towards him anymore. How foolish had he been to think the worst of him based on how he’d acted after a rejection. It wasn’t as if Dwalin hadn’t given him reason to be angry, and when it came to protect him from a dragon Nori hadn’t hesitated, neither in defending him nor in trying to soothe and aid Dwalin when he was helpless and in pain.

Nori was speaking to him again as well, but there was still a distance between them Dwalin didn’t seem to be able to cross. 

Nori had guarded Dwalin’s sleep that first night after the attack, but he was still quiet and kept a bit of distance…

Dwalin rubbed his face with his palm, tired, and wishing he knew how to fix things with Nori properly. It wasn’t as if there was much time left for them to make amends.

Nori would be out keeping watch on deck now, despite the cold and the night. Neither of them liked to leave the ship unattended in times like these. Nori had always been prone to stay up during the nights if something was wrong, and then disappear for an hour or two during the day to catch up on sleep.

For a brief moment Dwalin was unsure if he should, but then he shook his head and got up to take the fur coat from where it was hanging. Nori surely wouldn’t deny himself warmth just because he didn’t wish to be in Dwalin’s presence. Besides, things were better, weren’t they?

Outside it wasn’t much colder than in Dwalin’s cabin, but once he was out of the ship’s shelter he felt the wind bite at his skin. He was glad to have taken his own coat then. It was almost eerily quiet on the ship, though Dwalin didn’t think it was any quieter than it normally was this late. The crewmembers he could spot peered out fearfully for any sight of fire or dragon on the horizon. They weren’t joking or relaxed as Dwalin was used to, and nodded stiffly at him when they moved past him.

No lamp was lit that night, a precaution against being seen from below, but the moon shone enough for clear sight all around. It took Dwalin a moment to spot Nori, arms leaned on the rail, faced away from Ered Mithrim’s shadow looming so close. Staring out towards Erebor’s core, the direction of all they had to lose.

Dwalin braced himself briefly before stepping closer towards his first mate, not meaning to disturb him or seem like he was creeping up. Nori glanced up, no sign of displeasure in his posture, and Dwalin ventured closer.

“S’ stupid but I keep thinking I’d see lamps or an army close by in the night,” Nori said, quietly as he stared out into the quiet land. “I only ever see lamps moving _away_ though.”

The people were leaving as quick as they could, as Thorin would have wanted.

“Against the cold,” Dwalin offered instead of trying to come up with something to console Nori, and held out the coat.

Nori turned to look at it, hesitating as his face twitched and Dwalin wondered if he’d upset him after all. The first mate only sighed and reached out for the soft dark red fur.

It was big on him, as it always had been, but Nori seemed pleased when he wrapped himself up in it.

“Thank you.”

Dwalin nodded and rested his hand on the rail as well, standing beside Nori and wondering how long he could stay there without feeling like he’d overstayed his welcome. 

“I wonder if my house is still around here, somewhere,” Nori said after another moment, staring down at the landscape below, speaking as if he didn’t care that it was Dwalin there, as if he’d say this to anyone.

He’d told Dwalin about it once, when an idle evening and the wine had made him reminisce. Together with his family Nori had lived close to the border, his father a soldier and captain, well respected. They had run, and Nori had never tried searching for his old home, even years later.

With the situation as it was there was no wonder how Nori was thinking about it once more.

“Would you want to see it?”

Dwalin nearly winced at how rough his voice sounded when he tried to speak quietly, the burn still lingering.

Nori just shook his head.

“No.”

He looked small in the oversized coat, staring down at Arda with a forlorn expression. Small tufts of the fur at Nori’s collar where brushing against his cheeks as he’d pulled it up for warmth, and stray strands of his hair caught on it.

Much like it had been the very first time Dwalin had given him that coat. It had been years ago, but Dwalin still remembered the strange clench in his chest and the desire to make sure Nori was comfortable. 

It had been so easy then, even if he’d not realized what he was feeling for his first mate.

It had been so easy then, before this stupid fight. Arguments with people Dwalin cared for never lasted long. But Nori was different, wasn’t he? Once bitten, twice shy, and Dwalin suspected that only his sisters were permitted to regain Nori’s full trust after a fight..

The fear of having forever destroyed Nori’s trust in him made Dwalin’s shoulders slump.

They stood for long enough that Dwalin wondered whether Nori didn’t just want him to leave him alone.

Finally Nori turned his head to look directly at him, eyes dark in the moonlight.

“Why did you do it?” he asked. “Push me away, the way you did?”

Dwalin stared at him, lips parting but no words of explanation came.

“You acted as if I was mad for even _suggesting_ … As if the mere thought of you wanting me was an insult because I’m just crew.”

“You’re not...you’re not _just_ crew, Nori. But a captain can’t just do that,” Dwalin replied quickly, seeing the hurt on Nori’s face. “I’m your commanding officer, this is my ship and you’re on it working for me, aren’t you? This isn’t right.”

Nori stared at him blankly so Dwalin shook his head, wishing he were as skilled with smooth words as Balin was.

“I’ve seen it enough times,” he tried to clarify. “Captains just… taking who they want? And I never knew if the one they desired wanted them back, or if they couldn’t say no to their superior. I promised myself I would _never_ take advantage of my rank, I would never put anyone in the position to have to chose between what they think I want and what they want…”

Nori was still staring at him still, and Dwalin shifted his weight a little, unsure of what else to tell him.

“Chivalrous git,” Nori said, voice sounding a little dry.

“It’s the right thing,” Dwalin countered.

“You were afraid I’d do your bidding because you hold power over me?”

“Yes.”

To his surprise Nori’s lips twitched into a bitter smile.

“Have you never considered that we’re near equal? That you simply have the last word on decisions? Tell me, can you remember the last time I quietly obeyed anything that wasn’t about the ship? If you have a stupid idea I’m the first one to let you know.”

Dwalin had no reply to that and again Nori shook his head.

“You noble fool...”

It was true, and Dwalin felt ashamed all of a sudden, wishing he would have thought of it that way before insulting Nori by pushing him away. Him being the Captain had never interfered… The only time Nori had been wary of him was when Nori had been new among the crew and Dwalin had made no secret of how he wanted Nori be gone from the ship.

“Would you ever force me?” Nori went on. “Ignore me saying ‘no’ or push me into something because you know in the end you could overpower me in any way you choose?”

“Never,” Dwalin replied hotly, the mere thought making him feel sick.

The look he got from Nori made Dwalin avert his eyes. He really _had_ been a fool.

Nori turned away then, tugging at the coat as if he wanted to hide in it.

“Do you know how often I was dropped like some pile of shit just because I’m not rich or well bred or anything?”

“I never see you as less than you are,” Dwalin tried, not wanting Nori to dwell on unpleasant events of the past. “A good man and the best first mate I could have asked for. I couldn’t care less for who your ancestors were or for your wealth. I care about who you are as a person, not as… a title or…”

Nori’s lips twitched again, even as he looked sad at that. He seemed to relax a little as he leaned his elbows on the rail. Perhaps Dwalin was imagining but it seemed to him as if Nori wasn’t leaning away from him either, shifting just a little closer.

“We’re idiots…” Nori said.

They both stood in silence, and though nothing had changed Dwalin had the feeling that something had been righted. Perhaps there would be a way to fully mend what could have been…

Dwalin barely heard Nori when he spoke again, head turned to take in the mountains of Ered Mithrim in the direction they were flying, far in the distance.

“We’ll all die in this new war, won’t we?” Nori asked.

He sounded so… tired.

Dwalin wanted to comfort him, hold him and promise ‘no, never’. But he knew well enough that the Sky Ship was not meant for the battle they were headed to, even if they could save some lives of soldiers below. There would be no chance of survival if Smaug decided to show her face either.

“Yes,” he said instead. Why lie now?

Nori looked even more tired at that, though not afraid at all. He merely nodded, as if Dwalin had told him that it might rain soon.

They stood in silence for some time, just watching the land lost in their own thoughts.

 

*

The abandoned village should have been what alerted them.

They had been alert and watching out for signs of danger since they had first seen the desolate buildings, and yet it still hadn’t been enough.

For some time, the lack of travellers for some time hadn’t seemed strange until they saw the walls of a small settlement ahead, and they hurried their steps, eager to rest for a little and restock their rations.

Even before they reached the gate Tauriel had sensed that something was wrong. No sounds carried over to them, and no smoke was to be seen rising up from chimneys either. She shared what she saw, and Fíli frowned for the rest of the way. His expression turned near fearful when they were at the gates, to see that they were open but no people could be seen behind them. As Kíli wondered aloud why that might be, Tauriel noticed that, Fíli’s eyes would not leave the gates themselves.

There was a black symbol painted on them in hasty strokes, and below it a hand, with an oval over the palm.

“Something is wrong,” Fíli had said, jaw tense.

He pulled his companions along, away from the village and down the road to go on as if nothing had happened. Only when they were a few minutes of quick walking away did he explain that it had been the symbol of Mahal, painted in black to signify a warning.

“The people must have left and painted it to warn anyone who might pass by.”

Perhaps it had been stupid to even push on; perhaps they should have tried to return the way they’d come. The road wound along the side of a very steep slope to the right, and rocks and boulders were scattered around the landscape to the left. It was too well suited for an ambush.

The Orcs came with no warning, bursting out of hiding from behind the rocks, roaring as they brandished their weapons. As off guard as they were caught, the three companions drew their weapons and were ready to fight back.

It all happened in a blur. They were outnumbered but this time Tauriel knew how to fight. Fíli was vicious with his two swords, taking down Orcs left and right and kicking them away from himself with enough force to send them flying to the ground and into each other. While Kíli looked less elegant, he was brutally efficient in blocking and retaliating attacks, while Tauriel’s knives cut and slashed enough for the Orcs to perceive her as a threat.

A particularly large Orc lashed out his sword at Fíli, who jumped out of the way, but the Orc’s arm swung onwards in a wide arc, hitting Tauriel square across her chest. The air was knocked from her lungs, the arm on its own about half her weight.

She was ready to roll into the fall, jump up and bury her knife in that Orc’s neck, but there was no ground all of a sudden. Too late did Tauriel realize that she was slipping off the road and the even ground. She heard Kíli shout her name and she scrabbled for a handhold on the road, but her hands only found grass that ripped in her hold, and then she was falling downwards and rolling and the world was a blur of cloudy sky and dark grass as Tauriel fell away from the fight, and her friends.


	47. Towards the Grey Mountains

Pain throbbed through Tauriel’s body as the world finally stopped spinning. She groaned as she cracked an eye open, dirt sticking to her lashes, and tried to figure out where she was. Up above her she could see grass and damp earth for several feet, the slope so steep that for a moment she thought she must have fallen rather than rolled. There were rocks too, ragged bits of cliff that had broken off centuries ago.

Pain rang through Tauriel’s rib cage from where she’d hit the ground hard. Lying on her back wouldn’t do, though, and the memory of her friends nearly made her jolt upright immediately.

She forced herself to be a little patient though, moving her fingertips and toes to see if she still could. She spotted her knives within reach, thankful that she hadn’t lost them or managed to stab herself on accident during her fall. Her legs were fine too, and Tauriel could not feel any wetness indicating blood on her body, though the sharp iron scent hung in the air. Only when she sat up did Tauriel notice that her left leg twinged painfully with each motion. But she could stand despite the pain, and that would be enough. She stood, trying to get her bearings, and bent down to pick up her knives with a wince.

Before Tauriel could try to figure out the best path back up to her friends a hiss made her spin around, knives ready. Two Orcs had fallen with her, and she cursed her luck as one of them lifted a nasty looking cleaver. The second one had knives and sharp teeth, but black blood covered its face, and it swayed as if dazed.

Tauriel flung herself at the first attacker with a shout, catching them off guard. They were unable to do more than block Tauriel’s knife aimed for their side, but she threw her full weight into her shoulder as she rammed the Orc’s stomach, sending them flying into the other.

She fought and dodged and slashed at her opponents more viciously than she ever had before, because she knew each passing second meant that she was not there for Fíli and Kíli. It was over in a few moments, and with a brief pause to wipe her knives Tauriel set to find her way up.

It was harder than initially assumed. Falling was easy, she knew from experience , but the way up was always more difficult. The ground and grass weren’t exactly wet, but they were damp enough for Tauriel’s boots to slip on it at nearly every step. She kept falling on her face with a heavy thud, slipping several feet down over the ungainly ground. Her leg ached and protested but she ignored it.

She couldn’t even hear the sounds of fighting from this far away. She might not be able to hear Kíli call her name if all was well again, and Tauriel didn’t dare scream for them, in case in case there were more Orcs nearby. Fíli and Kíli wouldn’t abandon her, Tauriel knew that, but she had to be _there_ to help.

Over and over she slipped and slid down the way she had come. It seemed more and more impossible to even get up at all, forcing Tauriel to carefully make her way to the side and look for a better place. It grated at her to do so, fearing that she would drift away from the spot her friends had fought so hard at, but there was no other way if she was to reach them at all.

Desperation took hold of Tauriel after what must have been half an hour and the top of the slope still wasn’t close. She tried hard not to let it throw her into a panic, breathing harshly as she fought her way up, feet and hands digging into the dirt to hold on to something, anything.

‘ _One step at a time, hand, foot, hold on, looking for a solid-looking bit of ground. Don’t rush._ ’

Tauriel nearly cried out in relief when she finally set foot on even ground, seeing the road stretch out to each side. It didn’t last long, as she now realized that she couldn’t see her friends at all.

The scene of their fight was a mess. Trinkets and food bundles lay on the ground where they’d fallen from their packs, and several dead Orcs lay there in puddles of black blood. Tauriel could not see if there was any red in the churned up soil, but at least Fíli and Kíli weren’t… lying there. Running along the road back and forth and calling their names yielded no results, and peeking down the slope didn’t either.

Tauriel took a deep breath and slowly turned her eyes north, towards where the Orcs had come from, towards where Ered Mithrin loomed so close by…

If Fíli and Kíli weren’t dead, they must have been taken. Though Tauriel didn’t know how to read tracks expertly, it was unlikely that the Orcs would go anywhere but those mountains. Large as they were, going there was her best chance of finding them.

Ignoring the pain in her leg as best she could, Tauriel started running, eyes fixed on the grey wall of rock ahead.

*

The taste of blood in his mouth had made Kíli shut up for a while. Being overpowered and then carried by Orcs wasn’t his idea of going down valiantly, and his protest and struggle had only earned him a backhand across the face.

Fíli didn’t seem to be faring any better, head hanging limp as if he was in a daze.

Who even knew what had happened to Tauriel?

The thought of not being able to get to her made Kíli’s eyes burn with angry tears. They’d been outnumbered, and now Tauriel was lost, and possibly hurt somewhere. At least she’d not been caught, and no Orcs had been sent to search for her.

“We need the prince, leave the girl to the wilds,” one of the Orc (the leader most likely) had hissed when asked about her by one of the others.

“Which one’s the prince?” snivelled the subordinate Orc. The leader looked like they were about to slap them, but then paused, heavily pierced brows furrowed.

After staring at the captives the Orcs sneered. 

“Wasn’t specified, was it now?”

“Oi, which one’uv you’s the prince?” asked the leader, looking down at the boys.

Kíli and Fíli glared up at their captor, who groaned in exasperation and made a kick at an offended-looking Fíli.

“Guess we ‘ave to take ‘em both.” 

That was a relief at least, even if Kíli now worried about what the Orcs meant to do with Fíli. Would they use them as a hostage? He didn’t know what King Thorin was like, or what he would do for his nephew, but it couldn’t be a good sign either way that the crown prince had been captured. Another failure on Kíli’s part. Wasn’t he meant to assist the prince?

They were carried for hours, the Orcs not tiring at all even as Kíli’s bones ached from the uncomfortable travel. The group stopped at dawn to rest briefly, and started rummaging through the loot of the trio’s travelling packs.

“I’m sorry I let this happen,” Fíli whispered to him, but Kíli shook his head.

“It’s not your fault.”

“What kind of prince am I if I can’t even protect my friends?”

Kíli glared as he watched his own things being searched, the inspectors stopping to sniff and nibble at the items, before some Orc was bid to carry the load. It was Fíli’s things that grabbed Kíli’s attention though. He’d known that the prince used dual swords, but he could not recall seeing Fíli ever use his second one before today. They were mismatched, he noticed, similar in style and length, but the blades weren’t identical and they were decorated differently.

He _recognized_ the second sword when an Orc lifted it to examine it better.

“My father’s sword!” Kíli hissed, louder than he intended in his surprise.

Fíli turned his head to raise an eyebrow.

“Where?”

“That sword! The one you used, it’s my father’s! I mean, it’s mine!”

Fíli looked puzzled.

“Your father was from England, not an Ereborean noble.”

Kíli shook his head.

“But he lived here and he brought it back! It’s his, I lost it in a fire.”

Fíli opened his mouth to reply but the Orcs had had enough and both their backs received a smack with a staff.

“Enough with the babbling already!” the staff-wielding orc hissed, and the boys shut their mouths.

The brief rest was over moments later, and Kíli was picked up again as the Orcs started their journey towards Ered Mithrin. He noticed how Fíli was staring at him the entire time, brow furrowed as he was thinking on something. Kíli wanted to ask him about that, but with the Orcs all around them he kept that question for later. 

*

Tauriel ran for the rest of the day and through the night, always looking out for signs of Orcs or her friends. She had never been more grateful that stars did not naturally sleep at night. Tauriel only gave in to her body’s bothersome exhaustion as the pain in her leg protested every single step she took. It wouldn’t do to injure herself so. By then dawn had crept over the landscape, and Tauriel briefly hoped that as she slept, the Orcs would slow down, confident that they would not be followed.

The sky was blue when Tauriel awoke again. A fog hung low over the dew-damp grass, and Ered Mithrin was right there in front of her. Tauriel only allowed herself a few moments more, to cool her hands and cheeks with the grass before moving on. At least her leg didn’t hurt as much as the night before.

She couldn’t run as quickly as the day before, but Tauriel pushed on, ignoring the inconvenience of the pain. She needed to find Fíli and Kíli, and what kind of star would she be if she tired so quickly?

Tauriel could smell the smoke about an hour after the last of the fog had cleared and the rocks around her started growing taller the closer she got to the mountains.

_The Orc camp._

Hand hovering over her knife, Tauriel looked around, carefully following the scent. She couldn’t hear any Orcs, but then it wouldn’t do to drop her guard because of silence. Perhaps the creatures were hiding, or sleeping somewhere. A particularly large boulder was between her and the scent, and though she crept closer the only sound she could hear was the wind in the trees a little further off.

The first thing Tauriel saw after peeking out from behind the rock was an enormous rabbit, napping in the sun. At a second glance she spied more of them, all in some strange gear and ropes leading back to a sledge. A man stood before it, a long wild beard hanging over ragged and mismatched brown clothes which had once been colorful, and he was speaking, though it did not look as if he particularly minded whether anyone was listening. The stern-faced woman by his side certainly didn’t, her eyes focused on the tiny campfire before her, as she cracked some eggs into a pan. She was dressed as strangely as the man, though her clothes didn’t look quite as haphazardly thrown together. More like she had mended and sewn a dress out of different materials over and over, and her long coal black braid was tied with leather cord and blue ribbons, keeping it out of the way.

Tauriel was still watching her, planning her next move, when the woman suddenly looked up and her striking blue eyes fixed on Tauriel.

Immediately the woman straightened, alerting the man with a quick word. Both were staring at Tauriel now, and she saw no other possible action but to step into their sight fully and bow slightly.

“I am searching for my friends,” she said, loud and clear and hoping that she wasn’t making a mistake. “We were ambushed by Orcs and got separated. I can’t rest until I find them.”

“Oh Orcs, Orcs…” the man muttered, shaking his head worriedly. “Troublesome, bothersome, meddlesome, irksome, cumbersome...what was it I was saying?” He looked down at the woman.

“Orcs,” she replied.

“Ah yes, rather horrible creatures you know, you should steer clear of them...I should really take care of those vexatious things, this can’t go on....”

Tauriel took a few steps closer when he waved for her, nodding to him as he muttered on about how and where he’d seen any.

“Can you help me?” Tauriel interjected as the man took a break from his babbling. “It happened yesterday around midday, and I really-“

“Haven’t seen any _yesterday_ ,” the man interrupted. “But then I wasn’t really looking.”

He looked Tauriel up and down, before tilting his head.

“What on earth happened to your leg, child?”

“Nothing of importance, I just-”

“Hm, how about that paste I made last week… or was it two weeks? Blackbird dear, did we pack it, it works wonders for when a deer twists its leg, or to soothe agitated rabbits. Smells ghastly I’m afraid, like-”

“Do you know where they might have gone?” Tauriel interrupted, trying to mask her impatience, as her leg was the very least of her worries. The woman gave her a sympathetic glance.

“All the Orcs are moving along Ered Mithrin, aren’t they? Might be they go back though, moving back and forth,” the man said. 

He looked towards the mountains, and towards the trees in the west.

“I wanted to make sure they’re not hiding in any other woods… I was supposed to protect _my_ woods and still those foul creatures got in.”

He snatched a staff from the sledge, long and made of gnarled old wood with a blue crystal at the very end.

“I’ve waited around for too long,” he said with determination, “I will go do my duty. The Blackbird will help you, she’ll know what to do…”

Turning to the woman he said “wait for me here!” and hurried off towards the trees, forgetting all about Tauriel now that she was in his companion’s care.

She opened her mouth, as if to protest or call him back, but he already was off.

The woman on the ground turned her eyes back to Tauriel, evidently used to that eccentric behaviour.

“Your leg is hurt, let me see,” she said, her voice low and calm.

“That doesn’t matter, I can take care of it later,” Tauriel insisted, but the woman was still studying her intently.

“Let me see it, you can’t help anyone if you damage it further. I’ll see if I can help you, as he said.”

With a frustrated sigh Tauriel sat down before her, feeling her exhaustion deep in her bones.

“You are the Blackbird?” she asked, as she took off her boot with clumsy fingers.

“Yes,” the woman confirmed, not looking at Tauriel at all.

Perhaps she was a witch, Tauriel thought. Both she and that man seemed strange enough to be hermits or posses magic of their own. If she had magic to take the pain away, Tauriel wouldn’t complain.

Instead of using magic, however, the woman poked and prodded at Tauriel’s ankle, making her hiss in pain.

“I’m sorry,” the Blackbird said. “I’ve never learned to treat humans in gentler ways than battlefield emergencies require. If you were a fawn or a hedgehog this might go easier.”

She did try to soften her touch though, and Tauriel looked around to distract herself. The sledge seemed to be backed with a few supplies and blankets, and strange weapons lay on it, closest to the Blackbird: a kitchen knife, a hammer that seemed a little too small to be a warhammer, and an Orc’s cleaver that had been cleaned and cleared of the morbid talismans usually found on Orc weapons. The Blackbird certainly looked strong enough to use all of them.

“Just a bruise,” the Blackbird finally stated and pulled a small tin from her pocket. There was a salve inside, which she dabbed on Tauriel’s leg before releasing it.

“You should be careful about it.”

“Thank you,” Tauriel said, and tried to stand up.

A surprisingly strong grip on her arm prevented her from doing so.

“You should clean up first,” the Blackbird said.

“That’s not important now!”

“Your hair is full of dirt and leaves and Maker-knows-what else, and your face is scraped and dirtied as well. When was the last time you had a drink?”

Tauriel was about to protest that being dirty was no hindrance to her, but then she realized that she couldn’t remember when she’d had a drink last.

“It didn’t seem important,” she admitted sheepishly.

The Blackbird looked her over again, eyes lingering on Tauriel’s pointy ears.

“You were trying to ignore your body, weren’t you? Whatever you are, you thought you didn’t need to take care of yourself?”

Tauriel shrugged, and the woman got up to bring her a skin of water, along with a comb and a rag to clean herself up a little. She waited as Tauriel took care of herself, brushed the dirt of her cheek and out of her hair. She took some careful sips of water, and then the Blackbird handed her a bag with dried fruits to snack on, which Tauriel accepted gratefully. While Tauriel nibbled tentatively, the woman began eating the fried eggs out of the pan.

“Why are you two so interested in Orcs?” Tauriel asked when her stomach started protesting the bites she took, in order to distract herself and slow down with the food. “And why are you two alone, unless you have the aide of magic to make up for the lack of companions in such hostile lands?” 

Her eyes went wide.

“Are you a witch?”

The Blackbird shook her head with a smile, putting the empty frying pan aside.

“I sure look like one now, don’t I?”

“Then why are you with such a … uh…. strange man? He looks as if he might be a wizard or something.”

At that the woman looked bitter.

“Yes. Of all the wizards I could have been cursed with, I was cursed with him.” She sighed, and held her skirts aside to show off a faintly shimmering thread around her ankle. The thread glistened weakly, and looked as if it could float away as a cloud of smoke if tugged too roughly.

Tauriel drew a knife and bent down to try and cut the thread, but the woman waved her off. 

“It’s weaker than it was but it’s still a magic chain, won’t break until the spell does. Believe me I’ve tried. Horrid thing keeps giving me hope that it might just break one of these days.”

She pondered.

“It’s not so bad for a curse, I suppose. Radagast is a decent fellow, loves his animals… but were I not forbidden by the confines of the magic binding me, I would leave his forest to return to my true home. I doubt he’d notice for a while.”

Tauriel looked towards the trees where the man had disappeared. He had not seemed evil, or threatening at all.

“He cursed you?”

Again the woman shook her head.

“No. He is not even aware of the curse, or if he does he never speaks of it. I used to be a soldier, so to speak. A spell caster and leader, but of course that didn’t suit some people so well, you see. So I was put in these invisible shackles, which force me to stay within his domain, or at least near him.”

She turned away from Tauriel, picking at the fire again. The star thought about it, chewing at a dry strip of apple. _So the Blackbird was one of the spell casters that had been captured during the last war._

_Blackbird...why was that name so familiar…_

The Blackbird looked quite young in her eyes, certainly not much older than Dwalin, if at all. From what Tauriel knew of Erebor’s people aging, she must have been quite young at the time of her imprisonment.

Though Tauriel’s entire body was urging her to get up and run on to try and search for her friends, she also knew that she needed the food and the rest, so stayed put and continued to eat slowly.

“Tell me about these friends of yours,” the Blackbird said after a few moments of silence. “Perhaps I could give you some advice about where they’ve been taken.”

Tauriel thought for a moment. There probably was no danger in telling the woman the truth. She’d helped and had not shown any signs of malice. Besides, what harm could spilling the truth to a hermit do, in the long run?

“We were just the three of us, travelling on a quest to search for something important. We thought we were getting close, when we came to a deserted town and Fíli started acting all strange, we should have turned back after we saw Mahal’s symbol painted on the -“

The Blackbird froze, eyes wide as she stared at Tauriel.

“Say that name again,” she ordered.

“Um...Fíli? Prince Fíli, we were accompanying-”

“Prince- The _crown prince_ Fíli?”

Tauriel frowned.

“Yes, _Fíli_? Prince of Erebor and the nephew of King Thorin, I think he was captured when we were ambushed. Kíli and I were meant to protect him, but then I was thrown off the road I couldn’t reach them in time.” Tauriel ended on a snarl, fists clenching as she berated herself for the misfortune.

The Blackbird’s hand was on Tauriel’s wrist in an iron grip in an instant.

“ _Kíli_? Tell me about him, right now,” she cried urgently. “Is he of Erebor? What does he look like? How old is he?”

Tauriel tried to pull away, suddenly feeling a strange knot of worry in her chest.

“He’s around seventeen, dark hair, dark eyes… He’s not from Arda, he’s from a place called England.”

To her surprise the Blackbird released her, letting out an anguished wail.

“And they have been taken by Orcs? No, no no, no no no NO.”

She rose to her feet, taking a few steps back and forth and ran her hands through her hair, looking agitated. Then she kicked at the fire, stomping it out quickly.

“I must save them,” she hissed, before turning to Tauriel and pulling her up to her feet, mindful of her leg but still insistent. “You too, you will help me.”

“Why?” Tauriel asked, suspiciously. “Why do their names excite you so? Do you know them?”

The woman stilled, and looked at her. Her blue eyes pulled Tauriel’s gaze, holding it and for a moment Tauriel was sure she knew her.

“I know them, because I am Dís, daughter of Thrain, son of Thrór,” she said, and her voice was proud, and unwavering, and _angry_ at the world. “I am the princess of Erebor, sister to the King and mother to the crown prince. Because when I was taken by Smaug, my husband took my newborn child and fled to his homeworld for safety.”

Tauriel stared at the Blackbird, _Dís,_ the realization slowly clicking into place. The spellcaster, both the Lady Blackbird _and_ lost princess, mother of her friend. Her _friends_. 

Then something else dawned on her.

“They’re _brothers_?!” she exclaimed incredulously. 

“Of course they are, they’re my sons!” 

“But...they don’t even...Kíli never mentioned having a brother! And Fíli said his was lost!”

“Oh, Maker,” Dís groaned, and ran a hand over her face. “They don’t even… they don’t _know_?” She barked out a bitter laugh, looking startled at herself, then laughed again. The sound that escaped her was not a laugh of mirth, but an uncontrollable, broken sort of noise that left her gasping and shuddering, clutching her stomach. Shudders wracked her body with each hysterical howl; it was as if a rusty chest had been forced open after countless years and its contents were spilling out, clanking and jangling as they tumbled from their dusty confines. It was unlike anything Tauriel had ever heard, and she wondered how much of the princess’ life had actually been consumed by that forest. As Dís’ hysterical laughter bordered on sobbing, Tauriel stood and watched, feeling fury rise in her chest at the thought that any creature could have given any woman cause to laugh so terribly. 

At last, the laughter began to subside, and Tauriel placed a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed,” rasped the princess as she wiped her streaming eyes, finally spent of her laughter. She looked wrung-out, but it seemed to Tauriel as if a great weight had been lifted from her. As she composed herself, her mouth twisted into a grin, fearsome and distorted, a snarl of rage and determination. She glanced at Tauriel, and Tauriel gave her a short, sharp nod.

“What will you do now?” The star asked, watching the princess grab the weapons that lay on the sledge and tuck them under her belt. Next she reached for the reigns. “Didn’t you say you can’t leave the wizard?”

Dís sneered.

“That worm cursed me, but part of the spell is already broken, I am _out_ of the forest, the chain is thinning. I remember her very words: I would not walk out of the forest, and I would be chained to its spirit. Well, its spirit has run off to who-knows-where, and I did not _walk_ out of the forest, I was driven by this lovely rabbit sledge!” She laughed again, and Tauriel saw in her a lightness of spirit which had not seen the light of day for some time.

“I don’t care if this works or not, I must _try_. She’s taken so much from me, she will not take my sons when I’m so close.”

Tauriel looked around, and feeling like it was an appropriate moment to do so, smoothly drew her knives and twirled them around her fingers before sheathing them neatly. She would have to thank Nori for that move when they next met.

Dís looked around as well, briefly checking the surroundings, before she tugged Tauriel to the sledge and made her sit down.

“Hold on tight,” she said, and called a command to the rabbits as soon as Tauriel had wrapped her arms around the wooden handle.

In an instant the ground turned into a blur of green and brown, too close to Tauriel’s feet for her liking. The rabbits were far quicker than she could have anticipated, and the sledge jumped and lurched as they sped towards the mountains, following Dís’ sure hand.

“Where are we going?” Tauriel called up.Wind whipped across her cheeks, and Tauriel could barely keep her eyes open enough to see the cliffs ahead. She looked down at the princess’ feet instead, and saw the last remnants of the translucent chain flutter and burst into nothing more than a wisp of smoke, carried off by the wind. She barely heard Dís, when she spoke again.

“How about we slay a dragon, my friend?”


	48. In the Hospitality of the Dragon

The sky was painted grey and purple as the sun slowly crept up over the horizon to shine on Ered Mithrin. Thorin stood a little apart from the paths winding along the rocks, and his bustling army camp. They had not seen the army of Orcs yet, though the messages from Thorin’s scouts were clear that they would be here soon enough.

There was a valley below, where a shallow slope led down from the rocky hills that served as Erebor’s army camp to a long patch of land, before the pale rocks of Ered Mithrin rose up above them. That place had once been settled by Erebor’s kind, though it was too long ago to mourn the loss. By now all sorts of folk lived there, without showing their faces or bothering to come out of the mountains. Of all the people who had chosen to show their faces, it was the Orcs, and the dragon.

Thorin’s eyes would not stop searching the sky for a hint of the worm’s gold and red glimmer, but so far she’d not been spotted. Dwalin’s report had been a warning Thorin much appreciated. His soldiers were prepared, but even though their armour might withstand the heat of dragonfire, it wouldn’t protect them forever. Besides, the sheer mass of such a creature was enough of a problem, even without her foul and burning breath.

Smaug’s flying abilities and tough hide also gave her the irritating advantage of making her near impossible to slay from the ground.

Thorin’s eyes moved towards where the Wind Dancer was suspended in the sky, just a little behind the army. Dwalin had messaged him to reassure his King that he and his crew would be there for support. It calmed Thorin a little to know that his oldest friend and shield brother was so close. But he knew that there was nothing the Wind Dancer could do. Skyships weren’t meant for warfare, and if Smaug should appear it would be their end. One fiery breath, or one well-placed hit, was all the ship needed to go down.

And there still hadn’t been any reports of Fíli’s location. Perhaps he was too busy getting as far away from the area as possible to call upon a raven, but Thorin didn’t know for sure.

“Brooding again, cousin? Or should I say, brooding _as usual_?”

Tearing his eyes away from the Wind Dancer Thorin turned his attention to Dáin, who’d approached him as quietly as was possible in his heavy armour and prosthetic leg. Thorin had grown too used to the clatter of iron and people seeking him out to take any special note by now.

“I am thinking about what might happen.”

Dáin’s eyes moved over the Wind Dancer and towards the mountains. He scoffed, and smoothed his neatly-trimmed greying beard.

“The armies are here, my people are at your command, and we just have to wait and see what the Orcs plan before we can move. Worrying does us no good.”

Dáin clasped Thorin’s shoulder, who returned the gesture with a smile. 

“Visit me and my family in the Iron Hills when this is over. Have dinner with us, stay for a while,” Dáin said, sensing his cousin’s continuous worry. “Perhaps we’ll get to see whether dragons taste as rotten as their minds, or whether their meat makes up for that somewhere. Perhaps they go well with potatoes.”

Thorin snorted but he felt some of his tension leave his shoulders. He knew what he had to do here, and right now he couldn’t be an uncle or a King primarily. Right now he had to be a leader to his soldiers.

He knocked his forehead against Dáin’s respectfully, before clapping his shoulder once more.

“Go to your people now,” he said, “see that they are prepared.”

Dáin stood in attention for a moment and nodded. Then he put his helmet back on and made his way back to his people. Along with regular warriors Dáin had brought a well trained cavalry, with long range weapons that could be fired from the backs of their steads, giant well bred boars and rams the size of horses.

The Lord of the Iron Hills stood out among all the people gathering on the hill. His armour was simple, but was made by the best craftsmanship of the Iron Hills, runes of his family line and for protection decorated it beautifully. Even his iron leg had been geared up with a layer of protection over the artificial joints. Though his bright red-dyed hair was now hidden, the shock of colour of his helmet’s crest made him easy to spot. Thorin himself was adorned in dark embossed armour and the symbols of Durin’s line were wrought in gold throughout. He too would be easily spotted, by both the enemy and his own people. Everyone could pick out an Ereborean King in battle, and Thorin would not hide or withdraw his support.

Dáin spoke to some of his lieutenants before moving on to where his own boar’s armour was seen to by a handler. It was a gentle beast, Thorin knew, much like her owner. He knew that Dáin strongly detested battles like this, and war or even scouting parties that attacked more than a handful of marauding Orcs at a time. He’d been young during the war, but it had caused his hair and beard to go grey early on. Despite that, Dáin still was everything a warrior ought to be when it came to battle. If he had to, he would follow or lead soldiers into victory, fight ferociously and gain more glory than he’d ever ask for. 

Thorin nearly felt jealous watching him at ease with his soldiers and his great boar. He’d long unlearned how to be this at ease and near cheerful, be it fake or true, in dire situations. Thorin now had developed a melancholy Lawara would often sigh about.

Thorin threw another look towards the Wind Dancer, where she hung in the sky near unmoving. Then he shrugged his unease off and went to to re-join his own captains.

 

*

Gold glittered in every nook and cranny of the caverns they were led through. Where normal rooms would have dust settling over everything, here it was coins and small glittery trinkets, which Kíli had no time to examine before they were pushed along by their Orc captors.

Both his and the prince’s hands were still bound, limbs aching after the long uncomfortable journey. They’d only gotten two brief moments of rest, always surrounded by spears poking at them as they received some dry bread from their own provisions and some time to relieve themselves. The second time was when Kíli had coughed and muttered about his dry throat, which had resulted in both him and Fíli being shoved into an icy little river, choking and struggling to the Orcs amusement.

He very nearly wished they could go back to sitting in the river, instead of moving in the caverns. This was a dragon’s lair, he knew that from Fíli’s whisper as they’d reached the mountain, and from the near fearful whispers of the Orcs. A dragon was certainly worse than Orcs, but Kíli also felt more confident surrounded by rock. Even here, the presence of stone soothed him a little.

The tunnels they walked through were strange, narrow things that were too small for something as big as that dragon probably was. He saw junctions in the light of the Orcs’ lamps, and small holes in the rock here and there. It seemed as if somebody had mistaken a mountain for a castle in places.

Ancient rugs lay on the rocks, chests with precious cloth spilling out of them, marble pillars that did not suit the rock, and even a small vanity stood in the tunnels. The Orcs avoided all of it, not daring to touch.

Finally the Orcs reached giant cavernous space, the ceiling so high that Kíli’s head spun a little trying to look up. It was the gold that drew his attention though. There were piles of it higher than his waist, shields and goblets filled with more precious gems than he’d seen on the Galador or anywhere else. It shone and called, and the Orcs shuffled uncomfortably before pushing the two onwards.

Even the cages looked out of place in their luxury.

Made from solid iron, they were enough to contain even a wild beast, and looked like they probably had at some point. But inside there were even more riches, more carpets and pillows thrown in with little care, and gems and chains of pearls and silver hanging off the bars, like some strange festive decoration.

Their hands were freed before the Orcs pushed them inside. Fíli stumbled a little, but caught himself to look around with a raised eyebrow. Kíli turned to glare at the Orcs in the meantime. They only jeered back.

“Wait for the Lady,” one of the Orcs sneered, before all of them looked around and shuffled back towards the way the’d come.

Kíli looked around, trying to see where exactly they were. The pillows and carpets scattered in their cage looked very lush, if not even too precious to sit on. Some looked a little old, the gold thread unravelling and the fabric faded, and Kíli saw some burn marks on a carpet. How strange a place to keep the mismatched treasures…

Fíli paced the cage slowly, examining the iron bars carefully and touching here and there, looking for a weakness in the old and crude looking construction. It looked as if part of the cage had been torn by an incredible force once, an entire wall missing, and instead the iron bars had been driven into the rock. Still, there wasn’t room to squeeze through. Finally he stopped on the far end of the cage, staring out.

“Maker’s hammer… this truly is a dragon’s lair.”

Kíli walked up to him, curious about what he meant, and his mouth fell open. The cage was a few feet away from a ledge, where the main part of the cavern stretched before them.

It was a mountain of treasure. Shining in the light of the many lamps all over the place it was a nearly unfathomable amount of coins and goblets, jewels and entire _carriages_ made of or decorated with precious metal. It looked as if it was straight out of a fairy tale, only bigger, _real_. While they were looking at it from above, Kíli was certain that the pile was bigger than the largest hill near the town he grew up in.

Part of him wanted to go down, look at it properly, make sure it was real and look for marvels.

“That’s…” Kíli said, but an angry hiss interrupted him.

“I see _Erebor’s_ treasure!” Fíli said, eyebrows furrowing in anger though it was the only notion of how upset he was.

At Kíli’s questioning look he reached his arm out between the bars and pointed at a pile of shields and what looked like discarded armour. It looked very beautiful from the distance, unused it seemed.

“It’s _her_ ,” Fíli said bitterly. “Dragons pillage and destroy and take other people’s treasure or craftwork. I’m sure we’d find ancient artefacts from when our people settled in Ered Mithrin, if we look for long enough.”

“Oh I’m sure you will,” a low purring voice answered him, making both flinch around to see who had spoken.

The eerie feminine voice sounded like had been right behind them, but it took Kíli a moment to spot its owner.

Their cages were in an area of the cavern without very even ground, instead rising up in irregular twisted sort of steps. More treasure lay here and there, and long silk banners fell over the rock, and at the very top of that Kíli saw the woman. She wasn’t too far away, and yet she seemed to loom even higher than the rock reached. Shrouded in a dark red velvet cloak she stood, unusually tall and only a strange glimmer seen of her face. The edge of a dress was barely visible beneath the singed and frayed edges of her cloak, making her look more like a tall pillar than a person.

“Those who lived here are long dead, no longer fit to be feasted on by the maggots they spawned from. Those I took my gold from have burned to ashes, or will soon if they are still alive to try and claim it.”

She moved her head a little, the glimmer that was her eyes moving as if she was staring at Fíli.

“Smaug,” Fíli hissed, stiff and his hands clenched and unclenched reaching for his swords that were no longer at his side.

“Oh, you are quicker than your hollow-brained relatives, how befitting for Erebor’s future,” Smaug cooed, her delighted voice echoing against the rocks.

Smaug took a step, her cloak fluttering as she _leapt_ and landed on the same level as the cage, her entire body moving like a predator’s. She still wasn’t close enough for her face to be seen, but she moved closer steadily.

“How nice to see that those Orcs did indeed bring me the prince of Erebor,” she went on. “I am sure your uncle will be _delighted_ by the news of you being in my… _hospitality_.”

She smiled, sharp teeth flashing. She was close enough that Kíli could see how her eyes were completely golden, with sharp slit pupils.

“He’s _here_ you know. Noticed that he can’t ignore the armies of Orcs, so he brought his very own. Will be interesting to see how long they can hold their ground before they start getting annoying.”

Kíli could feel Fíli tense beside him, how he was restraining himself, but Fíli did not rise to the bait. Her unsettling eyes turned to gaze at Kíli.

“Oh and _you_ too? Goodness, I had hoped you’d fallen to your death after your ridiculous departure in that broken contraption. Where is that little lass of yours? Oh, it seems those dratted Orcs forgot to bring her here? Did she run away, or did you force her away? I can feel she’s alive… Well, a pleasant turn, her kind is _so_ needlessly noble, she’ll come for you, and I will eat her heart.”

Despite himself Kíli found himself cursing and taking a step forward, ready to attack. Even before Fíli grabbed his wrist he knew there was no sense in it.

The woman laughed at that, and now Kíli could hear that there seemed to be two voices coming out of her mouth at once, one of a woman, and one that could only belong to a beast of immense size, even if it was quiet and distant.

“You won’t,” he hissed. He’d promised, and what kind of man would he be if he’d let his lover get hurt just because he was trapped?

Smaug’s laughter stopped, though she was still smirking.

“I reign as I please,” she purred, stepping all the way to the bars.

Now they could see her properly. Her face was _wrong_ , as if somebody had taken a beautiful mask and tried to force it over something with entirely the wrong shape. Her cheekbones seemed too sharp for a human, her skin stretched and cracking in places. One could see a faint red and gold glimmer here and there, as if there were scales hidden under her skin, trying to get out, and her mouth was too wide.

Not to mention her height; she was much taller than even Dwalin, Kíli was certain.

“You are pleased to show us your lack of skill in shape shifting?” Fíli asked dryly.

Smaug’s lips pulled back to reveal the row of sharp teeth in her mouth, sneering briefly before waving him off.

“What a rude little prince you are, to say such things to a lady. And I’d watch your tongue if I were you. I’ve not even eaten yet.”

Her eyes moved up and down over Fíli’s body and she smiled.

Fíli didn’t reply, and Smaug laughed at him.

As she threw her head back, her hood shifted a little bit, and Kíli could catch a better look on her face. The features looked vaguely familiar, and a little bit of singed messy hair slipped out from the cloak’s confides as well. It was red, and shone a little bit as if somebody had woven golden threads through it once…

“You’re the innkeeper!” Kíli exclaimed. “ _You_ were the one who sent Orcs after Tauriel and me!”

“Oh, it turns out the pup has brains in his head after all.”

Smaug scoffed, and turned away from them.

“Would have had my prey then and there if you hadn’t gotten lucky with your magic tricks. Not this time though. You have no sword and nothing particularly magical about you now. Nothing that will let you disappear and travel for miles without me noticing.”

She turned away from them, ignoring how Fíli threw Kíli a quizzical look.

“The past is of no concern to me. The future promises so many nice things to entertain myself with, after all. Come, keep me company as we wait for the King’s army to be crushed and for my prey to come to me.”

She leapt again, her cape billowing as if it were wings to carry her back up to where she’d been before. There she moved around a little, throwing pillows at a lounger and making a nest of them before reclining against them.

“If it goes on for too long I shall call for a roast and wine. You do need to _eat_ to live, don’t you? Don’t worry, you won’t starve. When you die it will be by my hand.”

Kíli wanted to shout at her, but there was no sense in it.

He paced in front of the bars like a caged cat, angry and helpless and hoping that Tauriel would have the sense to know that she couldn’t come and get them.

Fíli sat down on the pillows, face pale.

“My uncle is going to war… it’s happening all over again and I’m here, trapped.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kíli tried, but Fíli shook his head.

“That’s not it. If things go as they did when I was a boy… Smaug didn’t participate in the main battles last time, but I doubt that we have many weapons to kill a dragon this time.”

Kíli sat down across from him, nodding. To his surprise Fíli gave him a weak and bitter smile.

“She’s tired,” he said. “Dragons sleep for centuries at a time, but she’s not. She can’t be at the height of her power – as if that’s any comfort with a _dragon_.”

Kíli glanced up to where Smaug now was ignoring them as if they were nothing more than fancy pet birds in a lady’s living room. He couldn’t imagine how she’d look like as a dragon. She was dangerous enough in this form.

Kíli didn’t know how long they stayed in the cage. Hours passed, and he slept for a little while, finally getting some rest after the long fight and the journey to the lair. Sometimes small Orcs would arrive to speak to Smaug, but other than that she only moved to play with her treasure.

They were brought water and wine eventually, the wine being sickeningly sweet. After that they were handed jerky, which Kíli recognized as parts of their own provisions.

“What did she mean,” Fíli asked after hours of nothing but waiting and occasional sleep, and a half-hearted competition of throwing coins as far as they could in Smaug’s direction. “When she said you had escaped her before?”

“Well, what I told you when we first met, we had the Eagle glider and I…”

Kíli thought for a moment.

“Raven’s feathers. We couldn’t get the glider to work so I tried to ‘fly on a Raven’s Wings,’ but they weren’t working fast enough and I was scared they would leave Tauriel behind. And then the glider just… moved.”

Fíli’s eyes widened.

“Only the royal ravens of Erebor can be used for that magic,” he whispered. “Only a spell cast in the height of the citadel of our capital, high up with the ravens… Where did you get them?”

“My father had saved them, from his journey to Arda,” Kíli said, raising his eyebrow.

Fíli opened his mouth as if to ask more, but reconsidered as he leaned back against his pillow pile. 

“What is Tauriel that Smaug wants her heart?” he asked after a few moments. “You don’t plan an elaborate trap just to eat _any_ old heart.” Kíli looked mildly offended at any part of Tauriel being “any old,” but though Fíli braced himself for a poetic defense of her uniqueness, Kíli simply sighed. There wasn’t really any point of keeping it from Fíli if they were in a dire situation like this.

“She’s a star.”

Fíli’s deadpan stare nearly made him laugh.

“She did want to tell you. When it was her turn to tell a secret, we thought it would be funnier that way. It’s not… something you can safely say out loud, is it?”

Fíli blinked.

“A star… hammers and coal, what else don’t I know about you two? No, no I don’t care right now, the fact that I have been travelling with a bloody _star_ is enough of a revelation for one day.”

His face twisted as if in pain.

“They say a star’s heart holds immense power. To eat the heart of a star would give a mortal person eternal life, but I have no idea what it would do for a _dragon_. Smaug hungers for magical energy, we assume that’s why she hunted the Arkenstone last time, but the heart of a star is almost definitely worse. If anything happens to Tauriel we’re all in danger as well.”

For a while neither of them said a word, before Fíli asked, “who else knows?”

Kíli shrugged. 

“Nori, who obviously told Dwalin. And a reclusive bear-man we met a while ago, but he doesn’t eat meat so he’d probably turn his nose up at a heart even if he cared about immortality.”

Fíli rolled his eyes but nodded.

“How did _you_ find out?”

At that Kíli squirmed uncomfortably. 

“I uh… crashed into her when landing from my Raven’s flight into Arda. Just after she’d crashed on the ground herself.”

Fíli smirked briefly and didn’t ask more about that matter. They sat in tired silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts.

Kíli got up a few times, pacing back and forth and throwing angry glares at Smaug. Sometimes she would look back, just long enough to smirk and turn away again. Fíli remained seated, deep in thought.

With nothing else to do, Kíli ended up thinking back to how they had been captured, trying to figure out what he could have done differently. They had been vastly outnumbered, and Kíli had to admit to himself that they only held up for so long because the Orcs had been ordered to capture, not kill.

That led him to the journey to the mountains, and how their things had been taken…

“You had my father’s sword,” Kíli said slowly, turning to Fíli.

“He gave it to me for this quest, along with the Raven feathers and some talismans, saying he’d brought it home from Arda. I tried to fight when the Orcs surrounded us at that inn, because it was the only weapon we had, but I lost it in the fire.”

“I found it in the ashes,” Fíli said. “Because I came across it when searching for the stone. It could only have belonged to a nobleman of the capital, or a thief.”

“My father is no thief!” Kíli snapped at the accusation, and Fíli raised his hand.

“Peace, I only mean to tell you that your father must have held a prestigious position, or at least have befriended somebody who’s a noble.”

He shifted on his pillows, leaning closer to Kíli and squinted up at him.

“Just who _is_ your father?”

“Why?”

“Just...curious.”

“Hm.”

Kíli tried to think of what to say.

“He doesn’t exactly stand out from the ordinary townspeople? He’s a shopkeeper now, and respectable enough that the townsfolk have nearly forgotten that he disappeared across the Wall for a few years and came back with a child.”

“Right…” said Fíli, sounding a bit strained.

“He told me my mother is a spell caster, maybe she was the one to provide it all?”

“But the only way either of them would have access to royal raven feathers, let alone the magic to enchant them, would require... ”

Fíli was staring straight ahead and sitting very, very still.

“What was your father’s name?”

Kíli shrugged.

“It’s Philip. Why?”

Fíli’s eyes widened as he stared up at Kíli.

“Philip _Sterling_?”

Kíli kneeled down next to him, staring back.

“How did you know that name?”

Fíli shook his head, his braids flying.

“Because that was _my_ father’s name!”

“ _What_?”

Fíli got up to his feet, dragging Kíli up as well as he grabbed his arms and stared at him.

“My mother was pregnant during the war, eighteen years ago, and as soon as she gave birth she joined the battles, but she was captured. My father and the child disappeared after their travel party was ambushed by Orcs, and we’re sure they ran to safety, somewhere, but they passed out of our range of magic so we could not find them. They went most likely to England, which was my father’s home world. Kíli, I think you’re… you’re my little brother.”

Kíli shook his head in disbelief. It was not possible… But despite himself Kíli found himself staring at Fíli a little closer. His most prominent features were nothing like Kíli’s father, but there was something about the cut of his face, the way his lips curled when he smiled… Philip’s hair was a darker blond and streaked with grey, but...

“How,” he asked again, unsure of what to feel. His thoughts were a mess, but he felt himself smiling as he grabbed Fíli’s arms.

“Why can’t you just sit and sob like good prisoners,” Smaug’s voice called to them from her throne above, but they ignored her.

“Is there a way to be sure?” Kíli asked.

“No… unless… Do you have anything that belonged to your father with you? Something personal as proof?”

Kíli tried to think. He suddenly remembered the good luck charms his father had given him, and quickly pulled away to tug at his sleeve. His mother’s talisman was an inconspicuous thing, nothing more than a woven bracelet with a charm. Kíli held his wrist up to giveFíli a better view, his excitement not in the least dampened by how silly the whole situation was.

“Didn’t you hear me? Sit down and be _quiet_!” Smaug’s voice boomed this time, just as Fíli let out a cry of surprise.

“It is my mother’s makers mark!” he breathed, pointing out where a small pattern interrupted the rest of the threads. “A very simple charm, meant to bring luck, basic protection against malicious magic…”

He looked up at Kíli eyes, shining.

“You really _are_ my brother.”

Now Kíli really couldn’t keep himself from grinning. They grasped each other’s shoulder, and Fíli pulled Kíli closer to knock their foreheads together.

“I never thought I’d get to meet you,” he breathed, holding his little brother close for the first time.

“I never even knew I _had_ a brother… I’m going to be so mad at Father next time I see him. Oh, I’ll have to bring you with me to show you where I grew up, the town isn’t anything special but-”

Kíli cut himself off and shook his head with another disbelieving chuckle.

“But does that mean my mother is…”

“Princess Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór, younger sister of the current King Thorin II of Erebor.”

Kíli couldn’t help but snort at that.

“I’m _royalty_. ME? I don’t even have a… a proper princely beard yet!”

Fíli burst out with laughter, and Kíli joined in, his shoulders shaking at the ridiculousness of this entire situation. Here he was, trapped and tired in a dragon’s lair, and finding that he was somebody’s _brother_.

The owner of the lair sneered again, glaring at them in annoyance.

“How _heartwarming_ ,” Smaug said dryly, stretching out on her lounger. “If you two don’t stop making such a noise I _will_ find a new cage for one of you. One prince more or less doesn’t matter to me.”

“Give us a minute, why don’t you,” snapped Fíli hotly and bumped foreheads with Kíli again, sending them into another fit of giggles.

“We’ll be twice as loud if you split us up, believe me. I really wouldn’t risk it if I were you,” called Kíli, and they giggled some more at the hiss in response.

When they got their breath back Fíli pulled Kíli back down to sit against the pillows quietly. They didn’t say another word as they waited once more, and Smaug didn’t pay them any more attention either.

Despite the dire situation Kíli felt a strange relief spreading in his chest. He knew who his family was now, who _he_ was. Somehow sitting in a cage and waiting for certain doom didn’t seem quite as hopeless with his friend’s shoulder pressed against his, now knowing that it also belonged to his brother. 

*

Hours passed before Dís let the rabbits stop and take a break at a stream near the mountains. She let them drink and eat, and only when they were looked after did she sit down with Tauriel to have food as well.

“There’s no sense in pushing ourselves to arrive stiff and unable to run or escape,” Dís said, as they ate some rusk.

“What will we do if Smaug is there?” Tauriel asked, and Dís smirked.

“I won’t let that worm get away unscathed either way. But I know her magic, even if I just brushed it briefly. She can’t be all that strong anymore. Dragons aren’t meant to be active for as long as she has been, they sleep to restore their magic powers, or consume great magic from foreign sources. If they didn’t slumber in their gold for centuries at a time, they’d just be… beasts. Like giant petulant cats with wings. Magic just makes them more prone to tantrums and gives them a bigger ego. And since Smaug failed to consume the Arkenstone’s energy she’s just a tired old lizard. With the Arkenstone she’d have had a few decades without needing to rest deeply, but the Arkenstone is cold now.”

Tauriel looked towards the mountains, feeling a little uneasy.

“I’m not from Arda,” she said slowly, coaxing her secret out from where she’d buried it deep within herself. But Dís hated Smaug, and she wanted nothing more than to save her sons and her family, and get her vengeance. She was safe to speak to.

“I thought you should know that… that I’m a star… So Smaug theoretically use _me_ , couldn’t she? That’s why everyone’s been warning me to keep my identity a secret, isn’t it?”

Dís threw Tauriel a sad look.

“Yes,” she said plainly, and Tauriel appreciated the bluntness. “Stars are valuable sources of magic. Your heart, if eaten, will give her Mahal-knows-what sort of power.” 

_That_ sort of bluntness Tauriel could have done without, but she supressed her shudder and listened as the princess continued.

“Strangely enough, though, you do have a defense: you are tense and tired. Unless she’s in a dire situation, Smaug won’t try to do anything to you until you’ve rested a little.”

Tauriel shivered, and curled a hand around one of her knives. There was little it would do against a dragon, but she would not go down without a fight. They _would_ be fine, they would free Fíli and Kíli, and they would defeat the dragon as well. 

“I will protect you,” Dís said, voice hard. “She won’t take anything else from us.”

It was strangely comforting to have Dís say it, even if Tauriel didn’t know if they truly could take on a dragon. Her determination did help though.

“Better hide one of your knives under your clothes,” Dís advised. “That way you’re not defenseless even when they confiscate your other one.”

Tauriel nodded, and took her smallest knife to hide on the inside of her vest, just as Dís arranged her weapons to be in easier reach as they rode on. The rabbits had rested by then, and their journey continued.

The sun was starting to set when Dís stopped the rabbits, and started filling small bags with the most necessary provisions.

“The terrain is no longer suited for the sledge,” she said sadly.

She gave Tauriel a look. 

“Listen… if we get captured, which is likely, you will be in more danger than any of us. Do you still want to go on?”

Tauriel didn’t need a second to consider as she nodded. 

“Yes. I have to save my friends, and everyone else if I can. I could die either way.”

Dís nodded as well, and sent the rabbits away to return to their master. Tauriel was handed one of the bags, and they set out on foot. There was no grass or soft soil under their feet now, only rock.

“Is there anything specific we’re looking for?” Tauriel asked. 

“We’re looking for some kind of tunnel,” Dís told her. “I can sense Smaug’s presence, if faintly. I suppose the upside of being cursed by her is that I magic feels like when it’s nearby. If we find a tunnel there’s a good chance it will lead us to her lair. These mountains used to be inhabited by my people, did you know? Even if they never completely finished the settlement the way they intended.”

The sun was just starting to disappear behind the horizon when Tauriel’s ears picked up a crunching sound above the path.

“Not again,” she hissed under her breath, drawing her knives and spinning to see the first Orc ready to attack.

Dís reacted quickly, pulling her large hammer and ready to strike when more Orcs attacked them. They were slimmer and smaller than the ones that had attacked Tauriel a few days ago, scouts most likely, but there were many.

Fuelled by her anger at having lost her friends Tauriel fought dirty, keeping the Orcs at bay and not letting them overpower her. She nearly lost focus when she saw how _vicious_ Dís was though. Her hammer smashed into the Orcs with much more force than Tauriel could have put behind each blow. She wasn’t quiet in her anger, roaring and grunting under the effort of keeping the Orcs off, blocking their blows with her own weapons and kicking them away from her.

The call to kill the two rose among the Orcs, and they fought harder in turn. It seemed pathetic to be taken down by Orcs before even reaching the dragon, so Tauriel only fought harder, though she knew they’d be defeated in very little time.

At one point Dís raised her hammer high above her head, and smashed it down on the ground with a roar. A ripple went through the rocks, making Tauriel’s spine tingle, but it moved on, knocking every Orc within ten feet from Dís down for a moment.

“Magic,” someone hissed, and the order to _capture_ , not kill was roared by the Orc’s leader.

They didn’t last long after; Dís was overpowered and held down, while Tauriel was knocked to the ground and held in place by sharp blades pointing at her chest. The Orcs made quick work of taking away all their weapons, though they didn’t notice all of Tauriel’s blades. Not that it was of much use, as their hands were bound behind their backs and they were prodded onwards at swordpoint.

The Orcs were congratulating themselves, sneering and taunting at their captives, promising them that the great beast would deal with them. Dís was smirking a little, her hair hanging into her face where it had escaped her braid. They would be led _directly_ to the boys, and Tauriel could only trust that they would get back out again with Fíli and Kíli in tow.


	49. Starlight

Since she had come across the star, Dís had felt the fire of her rage burn hotter than any dragon’s flame. For years the bitterness of what Smaug had brought to her family had been an icy thorn deep in her heart, but she hadn’t been quite so furious as when the woman at her side turned out to be in such danger from that monster

Smaug was back, her sons were in captivity, and it seemed like her brother would have to face another war. Not to mention the fallen star, Tauriel, who was just a lass and a newborn to the mortal world of Arda. She cared for Dís’ youngest son, and considered her eldest a friend. She was in more imminent danger than any of them; she could live an eternity if she wasn’t wished harm for the sake of her heart. And she knew this, and _still_ she wanted to push on and rescue her companions…

Dís was quiet, and held the fire of her rage controlled as a forge’s fire, but as she walked side by side with Tauriel she held herself with pride, as befitting a King’s daughter. The lass’ presence was a reminder about what she had to protect.

The Orcs were still cautious as they led the two through tunnels filled with stolen treasures; they were fearful of what a spell caster might do, even as they’d bound her hands behind her back, but they were nearly giddy about having found such a powerful intruder to bring to their master. 

At least they weren’t trying to poke or nudge the captives with their weapons. Tauriel was walking as swiftly as demanded, but Dís could see how she was starting to sag as she walked, her face determined as she braved the pain of her leg. Much as it pained Dís to see the young woman hurt, she also knew that the injury was the star’s shield for now.

Just before they reached the point where the tunnel opened up into a larger cavernous space, one of the Orcs scuffled ahead, speaking up loudly.

“Your Magnificence, we found intruders?”

“Oh?” the echoing, twisting voices of a woman and a beast spoke in unison, from the same mouth, and Dís bristled.

She knew that voice all too well…

They were led out into the cavern, and Dís looked to whom the Orc was bowing to. She had to look up as there was a dozen feet of some ragged twisted rocks rising up over them, and at the very top a lounger rested, out of place with all the riches covering it. The woman reclining upon it threw one look at her prisoners before she let out an angry hiss.

“You fools brought the _star_!”

She jumped up, the red cape around her shoulders flaring up, and what little of her face could be seen twisted in anger.

An anguished “NO!” was heard from somewhere behind Dís, but she could not take her eyes off Smaug.

The Orcs crowed in sudden fear, obviously surprised by the reaction. Dís could barely suppress her sneer at the sight. Smaug was very low on magic and energy if she needed Orcs to do her work for her at this point, and if she was unable to even keep a realistic human shape. She was too tall, too dragon-like already.

The drake-woman hissed and ran a cracked hand over her face, the skin peeling back to reveal scales. Then she straightened out, smiling. Her teeth were so dangerously sharp, even from this distance. The last illusion of humanity was shed when she took a step and _glided_ down to where they stood, her cape flaring like a bat’s wings.

“My darling,” she cooed as she saw Tauriel. “My dear, how I’ve missed your… illuminating presence.”

Smaug towered over the star, but Tauriel didn’t back down as the dragon stepped closer, hand stretching out to touch her cheek. Her scaled hand was twisted already, and Tauriel stared at her with her lips pressed together.

Dís did not move as Smaug stepped around the star, looking her up and down.

“Oh my poor little thing. How tired you are, how broken.”

Smaug’s lips twitched in a frown as she looked over the bruises visible on Tauriel’s dirtied skin, and the way she stood to put no weight on her hurting leg. She did not shift away when Smaug came closer, and only pulled a disgusted face when the dragon tried to pull her closer into something like an embrace.

“Don’t worry my dear,” Smaug said sweetly. “I don’t need anything from you just now. My own star as a pet will be entertaining enough, for the moment.”

Dís had prepared herself for such a reaction, and did not show her relief.

“You’re lucky you didn’t harm my star any further,” Smaug hissed at the Orcs, who had been wringing their hands and cowering. “She would have been so much happier to find me on her own! Full of relief and joy, practically shining as she found her little mortals without a fuss! But it doesn’t matter. In that state I’m not sure she’d have found me at all.”

As Smaug threw one distasteful glance over her subjects her eyes fell on Dís. It took her a moment to realize who she was, Dís noted. Golden eyes tried to coax any and all secrets out of the dark-haired woman through nothing more than a glance. When she did realize her mouth split into an ugly grin.

“Oh. But look who’s here as well? Princess, how much you’ve _changed_ since I last saw you. Did you enjoy the company of the forest vermin you belong with? I must admit I did not expect you to find a way out.”

The dragon’s eyes shone in glee.

“Look how old you’ve gotten, _highness_. How does that feel?”

Dís’ lips twitched into a shadow of a smile.

“At least I’m not a rotting sack of scales and spent magic. I wager it has been less than a year, since you took that shape? And look what you’ve done with it, I expect it was rather charming and _stable_ once.”

Smaug’s face twisted into a snarl, traces of her shape’s attempted beauty disappearing even further. Dís averted her eyes, hiding her smile. Dragons were laughably easy to insult if one knew what they were vain about.

“Your laughter will burn off your face soon enough,” Smaug growled, the echo of the beast’s voice in her words overshadowing the woman’s voice briefly. “After I make you watch your kingdom’s ruin I will personally make you suffer.”

She flicked her clawed hand, and the Orcs hurriedly pushed Tauriel and Dís along, leaving Smaug to return to her seat above her hoard.

Dís watched her, seething quietly. She would get her, she would end that great drake before too long, or at least give her the scars of their encounter for the rest of her existence.

There was a strange twisted cage close to where the ground broke off at a dip in the cavern, where Smaug kept her mountain of treasure. It was as large as a modestly sized room, its twisted metal driven into the rock so it could not be moved.

Dís’ anger was drowned out by the thundering beat of her heart as she saw the two occupants of the prison. Two young men, staring at the newcomers despite the Orcs jabbing through the bars with their spears to make them step away. The younger seemed to not be able to take his eyes off Tauriel, worry and relief plain on his soft face. The older one’s eyes were trained on his surroundings, flicking from Smaug to the Orcs to the new captives with wide eyes, tainted blue by Durin’s magic.

They were so undoubtedly _hers_. 

Dís barely registered the Orcs cutting her bonds to shove her inside. The door clanged shut behind them and the younger prisoner was already hurrying towards the star.

“Tauriel!” 

“ _Kíli_ ,” Tauriel breathed in relief, sagging against him as he hugged her hard.

“I was so worried that you died when you fell, we were captured, we couldn’t even- your leg, are you hurt? Why are you here so soon, how-”

“It’s nothing, I twisted it when I fell but I still managed to take down the Orcs that fell with me- I didn’t rest when-”

The situation they were in seemed to not bother them, and Dís could see how much weight must have lifted off Tauriel’s heart. She could recognize that spark of joy in her and the boy’s eyes…

Her own eyes could not linger on that sight long. Dís still stood before the door of their cell, facing the man who could only be the crown prince of Erebor. Fíli looked so much like Philip had the first time Dís had caught a glimpse of him in the forest. He stood straight and proud, as his uncle had so many decades ago, keeping his face calm, but even so the confusion and uncertainty in his expression was plain, making him look younger than he tried to appear. So much like Thorin… still just like the small serious child…

“You are…?” Fíli asked slowly, brow furrowing.

Of course he would not easily recognize her. His memory of his mother would have been of a woman much younger, much calmer than Dís was now, her dress suited for life in a palace, hair adorned with blue crystals and her attitude so gentle around her child. Not a memory of what appeared to be a woodland witch who had just recently seen battle.

“Fíli,” she said, keeping her voice steady.

She wanted to cry and take him in her arms, wanted to hold him close and let pain hurt and sorrow of the past years wash away with her tears. But she could not let go of herself with Smaug so close, and she needed to keep a clear mind for planning their escape…

Tauriel and Kíli had turned to look at them as well, Kíli frowning as he looked from his brother to Dís, waiting for a reaction.

“You look so much like your father,” ventured Dís. “It’s the hair I think. But you have Thorin’s bearing, he truly raised you to be a prince where I could not…”

“...Mum?”

Fíli’s voice was small and shaky, and disbelief warred with hope in his eyes.The prince’s face twisted, his shoulders going stiff. Dís only needed to take a few steps before he met her halfway, clinging to her as if he was a little boy once more. Dís held him as tightly as she could, wishing she could shelter him from all the grief the world had given them. He kept quiet as he held on, his shoulders only twitching slightly, but when he took half a step back only his eyes were a little reddened.

“Kíli,” he said, glancing to his brother. “This… it’s _Ma_!”

Dís’ eyes moved on to the son she’d known too briefly. Kíli had much of his father’s softer features, but she could see how there were Durin traits in him as well. The way he held himself was very much like his father though, and he had the same earnest eyes, the same curious expression and none of the hard steadiness of Dís’ line. She could plainly see that Philip must have taken good care of him while she wasn’t there.

“Kíli,” she said softly. “I have not gotten the chance to meet you yet.”

She reached out one arm for him, and Kíli came quicker than Fíli had, clinging to both his mother and his brother fiercely.

As if they’d not been parted for over seventeen years…

“My boys,” Dís whispered, fighting with her tears. She would not let herself cry until they were truly safe.

“I’m so sorry… I promise you, I will be strong enough to keep us together this time.”

Finally they let each other go, stepping back. Kíli wiped at his eyes, turning his head away so the other’s wouldn’t see. Tauriel smiled at him, putting her hand on his shoulder lightly.

“I’m glad to see you alive,” Fíli said, his voice still a little husky. “But what will we do now? We didn’t see any of this coming, we’ve been wandering away from the big towns. The war… I can’t assist Thorin from here, I didn’t even finish my quest for him… I don’t know how I can get us out of this.”

Dís managed a grim smile.

“We will help your uncle. And we will get out unscathed, if I can help it.”

She looked up to where Smaug was enjoying herself while also seemingly ignoring her prisoners.

“We need to think of a plan first,” Dís said. “While we still have time.”

The three looked at her as they sat down on the cushions scattered over the floor. There was worry in their eyes, but they looked up at Dís with faith, as if she were their leader. 

“I have spent the past seventeen years trapped, a few more hours will not hurt.”

Tauriel leaned against the rock with her leg stretched out before her, Kíli’s head resting on her shoulder, their fingers laced together. Fíli sat opposite of them, occasionally looking towards where Smaug lay, but not speaking a single word. Dís too was quiet, though she would occasionally glance towards her children with a strange expression and shift her hands through the treasures on the ground.

They’d only spoken briefly, and Dís had reassured them that she was working on some form of escape plan. She was a spell caster, as she’d pointed out, and hadn’t spent the past years idly without practicing or trying out new ways to fight with magic. She would think of something, so the three left her be.

Despite everything Tauriel found herself relaxing a little. There was nowhere to hurry, nobody to save or find before they died. Her leg hurt less than before, and Kíli being at her side put her at ease. Too much so, really. Tauriel was sure that she was too exhausted to be of any use to Smaug, but despite knowing that feeling well put her in mortal danger she could not stop herself. If it went on like this Smaug would not have to wait long to cut out her heart. And if it went on for _too_ long Smaug would eat her heart regardless of its minimal shine.

“We won’t let you come to harm,” Kíli said firmly, as if he knew what she was thinking about. Tauriel smiled and squeezed Kíli’s fingers.

“I know you won’t.”

The clatter of metal interrupted their assurances, and all four looked up to where Smaug had turned away from them. An Orc had appeared, much bigger than any that had attacked Tauriel so far.

They wore heavy armour, with even heavier weapons, all decorated in irregular smears of bright red paint. A commander of sorts, it seemed. They spoke to Smaug briefly, who replied in a rather pleased voice, before dismissing the Orc again. Tauriel had not picked up the words, but Smaug turned her attention to her prisoners right away to tell them.

“It might please you to know that the armies outside are no longer sitting idle. The battle has started. They say that brave little Oakenshield is leading his armies himself, like the good King he is.”

Tauriel could see Fíli tense, and Dís stilled her movements.

Smaug noticed as well, and laughed.

“If you behave nicely I might even have you escorted up to watch.”

Fíli’s knuckles were white as he clenched his fists, but he didn’t say a word, and Kíli merely glared.

Smaug waved them off and stretched out more comfortably.

“Oh save your gratitude.”

Fíli waited until she’d returned to lounging around before he turned around with tense eyes.

“What will we do? We can’t just… we can’t allow uncle Thorin and the rest to face Smaug. Even if they have the upper hand, it’s only a matter of time before she joins and then that’s it.”

Dís waved him over, and waited until Tauriel and Kíli sat around her as well. Then she tugged at the folds of her skirt to reveal a small stash of gems, scavenged from the ground earlier. Tauriel had not noticed her collect them, and examined them curiously.

“Gems and metals are wonderful conductors or storages for spells,” Dís explained. “That’s why so many jewellers or goldsmiths known at least a little of spell casting as well.”

“What have you done with these?” Fíli asked, reaching out to touch but quickly snatching his hand away as if he’d been shocked.

“Just energy sealed away in a rather crude fashion. These treasures have an air of corruption about them, from spending so many decades and even centuries in a dragon’s foul presence. They will release my own spell violently once I say the word.”

A grin spread over Dís’ face, making her look younger.

“Be ready to run and fight,” she instructed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if are some Orcs nearby.”

They got up and Dís put her gems into an empty pouch on her belt for easier access. Tauriel felt for her hidden dagger, ready to pull it should they need to fight, while Fíli and Kíli watched their mother curiously. Dís took a tiny ruby in her hand and paced near the cage’s edge, looking for a weak point.

“Turn away,” she said, taking a step back, and all three did, not a moment too soon.

Dís hurled the ruby towards the bars, and barked a rough sounding word in a language Tauriel didn’t know. Even turned away she could see a flash of red light and a strange cracking sound before the magic bound to the ruby released in a violent but strangely contained explosion.

They turned back to see that the bars had broken and twisted away to reveal a gap big enough for a grown adult to slip through. It didn’t go unnoticed of course, and Smaug sat up with an angry screech.

“What are you doing?” she roared, just as Dís shouted “run!”

They escaped, Kíli’s hand on Tauriel’s as he helped her step over the bars. They didn’t get far when Dís stopped in a fighter’s stance, sneering up at where Smaug’s cape was flaring like wings, her hand hovering over her gem stash.

“Face me in fair battle, if you know what that is,” Dís jeered up, the insult making Smaug hiss even louder.

Tauriel would have stayed to watch, but Fíli was urging them on.

“Quick, we have to get away while she’s buying us time.”

Tauriel looked back as they ran, just enough to see how Smaug heaved a ball of fire at Dís, who hurled another gem up, dissolving the fire and making it burst into harmless shower of embers.

They didn’t get far before the Orcs attacked. The first didn’t hesitate to take in the scene, jumping at a defenceless Kíli who raised his arms instinctively with no weapon to help him. Tauriel was there in an instant, drawing her dagger and burying it in the Orc’s throat.

“Find weapons,” she urged, as she saw a group of Orcs come out of the tunnel that was their escape.

Fíli dove towards a nearby pile of armour and snatched up swords with gilded handles, tossing one to Kíli before taking up a big shield for himself.

Behind them Smaug was screaming, her voice and Dís’ shouts in that strange language echoing and mingling with the roars of Orcs as they were upon them.

It was chaos. Tauriel spun and slashed and picked up some sort of heavy looking bejewelled staff to have more than just a knife. Fíli and Kíli fought back-to-back, vicious and desperate. They had to get out, to survive and to warn the King who also was Kíli and Fíli’s uncle. Tauriel could feel waves of heat against her skin as Smaug cast fire, all composure gone and trying _hard_ to destroy the princess.

Sometimes Tauriel would face them in her fight and see how Dís was faring.

The princess was no less angry and vicious in her fighting than the dragon. Smaug was growing and twisting, losing hold of her human shape as she fought and dodged the energy released from the gems and Dís’ curses. She’d flown down to face Dís better, but even like that her fire did not reach its destination. Dís was quick to dodge and adept at shielding herself, and ruthless in her attacks.

With each hit Smaug lost more of her calm and her shape.

Tauriel wondered with brief panic what they would do once Smaug changed into her true shape, but she forced the thought back as she ducked an Orc’s sword to drive her knife into its gut.

There was no time for that brief worry, as another Orc tried to sneak up on Tauriel and was punished for the attempt by Fíli’s sword. Tauriel could not move as lightly as usual, in fear of her leg giving in in the middle of battle, so she had to remain closer to her friends, her back turned to them as she stayed in one spot, much more like the fighting style Dwalin had taught them.

Their chances were beginning to look brighter for the moment, as if they’d defeat the guards and make it into the tunnels (unless more Orcs were about to spill out). Tauriel smiled grimly when Kíli declared it with optimism, nearly enjoying the ability to do something, fight by her friends’ side and the glimmer of hope that they could get out. 

“Fíli!” 

Dís’ shout nearly turned Tauriel’s head, but she had the presence of mind to focus on the fight. 

“Do you have any weapon for magic? One of your _own_.”

“What?” Kíli asked, blocking an attack and glancing towards his brother. 

A crackling blast was heard, as both Dís and Smaug shouted at each other in the effort to overpower each other’s attack and actually land a proper hit. 

“Um,” Fíli gritted out eloquently, heaving his shield against a particularly big Orc. “She needs something better than gems-”

He let go of the shield, catching the Orc off guard and knocking it to the ground. With a leap he broke away through their circle, away from his friends. Tauriel could see him dash towards the tunnel, where more Orcs could burst out at any moment. He was sprinting towards something beside it though, where a pile of familiar bags and weapons lay in a pile.

The last Orc left standing was quickly overpowered and cut down by Kíli’s sword, and Tauriel gripped her knives nervously. Already she could hear distant shouts and the voices of Orcs coming from inside the tunnel. Any moment now there’d be more pouring out to attack, and Fíli wasn’t paying it any mind. 

“Mum!” Fíli shouted over the commotion, to get her attention. “Lightning!”

He grabbed something out of his pack and the next moment a cylindrical leather canister was sailing through the air into Dís’ outstretched hands. Dís snatched it out of the air and jumped out of the way as Smaug threw another fistfull of fire at her. She fumbled uncertainly with the tube for a moment, and the three below could hear a faint “bugger, how does this-”

The explosion shook the entire mountain and knocked Tauriel straight off her feet. She heard the shouts, could see what was going on through a blur as Dís was thrown into the air by what looked to be a combination of her own magic, the entirety of the lightning and Smaug’s own blast of fire. 

Smaug’s clothes smouldered and the remainder of her hair frizzled and smoked as she let out a roar too loud for a human throat to produce. She was knocked through the air and off the ground, down into her pit of gold below. Dís crashed into Smaug’s seat on top of the rocks and lay panting.

Fíli was the first on his feet, staring towards the tunnel. The mountain had been truly shaken by the blast, causing rocks to break and loose stones to fall. It had also blocked the tunnel, which meant no more Orcs were able to pour out, but it also blocked their best chance of escape.

“There must be a tunnel above us!” Tauriel called as soon as she saw, remembering the Orc warrior who’d come to speak to Smaug earlier.

They stumbled towards where the rock rose up to Smaug’s little balcony, not daring to hope that the dragon had been knocked or killed for real. Ragged as the rock was, they would be able to climb, hopefully.

The grinding of shifting metal, and then the crash of metal being thrown around, was the first notice they had of Smaug being very much alive. Her roar followed, making Tauriel’s heart freeze.

“Can you climb, I’ll help you,” Kíli blurted out frantically as Tauriel had to lean on him.

A few coins fell from above when Dís heaved herself up enough to look down at them from where she’d landed. Her face and hands were covered in soot, and she looked as if keeping her balance was difficult even half lying. 

“Smaug is _changing_. You must hurry, once she’s a dragon there’ll be little I can do against her.”

She stretched her hand towards them, as if she could give them a hand from so far up.

“Little _worms_ ,” Smaug’s voice boomed over their words, twisting with only little of a woman’s voice left in it.

“There’s no time!” Fíli hissed up. “Get out of here, find Thorin, assist _him_ and warn them.”

The look in Dís’ eyes was nearly wild for a moment, more distraught than Tauriel had ever seen her, even when facing a dragon.

“I won’t leave you defenceless!”

A blast of fire, bigger than anything Tauriel had seen before burst from below, pooling up against the ceiling, and forcing Dís to roll away from the heat. When she reappeared she looked determined, but no less than Fíli who shook his head again.

“We can take care of ourselves, but Thorin doesn’t know that Smaug’s coming now!”

Dís threw one last look at the three of them, looking at each in turn, before nodding.

“Then you go warn him. Hurry, I will be right behind you.”

She disappeared out of view again, leaving the three behind.

“Do we climb?” Tauriel asked cautiously as something massive hit the ground below.

Any moment Smaug would be there…

Fíli’s expression suggested that he wanted to give up on that idea, because being killed by Smaug while scrambling up rocks didn’t sound like a very heroic death, in his opinion. It was also evident that he didn’t want to take away their hope to escape.

Kíli hefted his sword with a grin.

“I for one feel like giving dragonslaying a try. Not that there’s anything wrong with climbing, it just seems like a lot more unnecessary work. What do you say?”

The way he said it made Tauriel let out a genuine laugh, and even Fíli snorted. 

“Let’s,” she said, raising her knife.

Smaug raged below, transforming, shifting, and they caught a glimpse of her wing as she stretched. There was nothing they could do against her, and yet Tauriel felt strangely calm. She was at her friends’ sides, here at the end. Would her no-longer-beating heart be of any use to Smaug? Who knew? Tauriel figured that her death would at least spite the creature, and took a grim sliver of satisfaction knowing that it might at least stop Smaug regaining her powers.

They stood with their backs pressed against the wall, and Fíli was looking around frantically.

“What is it?” Kíli asked.

“We ended up in the one spot where there’s only gold…” Fíli said. “I learned a little bit of spell casting in my education to be a gold smith. I could try creating the same things as my mother out of gems.”

Tauriel looked at him for a moment, thinking about what she could contribute other than dropping to her knees and shifting through the gold. She didn’t have any jewels on her now, only a hairpin carefully wrapped up in her pack which was too far away now. It was the only jewellery she’d ever owned…

The necklace that had knocked her out of the sky so many months ago came to Tauriel’s mind. While it was a simple thing, not worth much at all, it _had_ a gem at its centre, didn’t it?

“Will any gem do?” Tauriel asked, already fumbling for it under her shirt. Only one gem-caused explosion was better than nothing, was it?

“I think so,” Fíli started, glancing at the necklace “I’d have to try and-“

He stopped, frozen, his eyes going wide as he saw it.

“ _The Arkenstone_.”

Kíli and Tauriel glanced at him, unsure why he brought it up, before Fíli raised his hand, hovering over the necklace.

“This is the _Arkenstone_. You had the bloody Arkenstone this whole time?!”

Behind them a giant red and gold shape rose into the air, roaring and latching on to the ceiling of the cavern.

“What?” Tauriel asked, looking down on the faded metal and dull gem in the middle of the setting. “But it’s so… it’s nothing. It doesn’t even shine.”

But… it had been strong enough to knock a star out of the sky. It had glowed in blue fire even if Tauriel had dismissed that observation as a mistake.

“Its magic cannot be restored until one of Durin’s line holds it in their hand,” Fíli whispered, looking reverent and still not daring to touch.

“Will it shine if you do-?“ Kíli asked, eyes wide.

Tauriel lowered the necklace into Fíli’s hand, letting the chain slither gently in a coil beside the pendant. His fingers touched the cool surface of the lacklustre stone, and all three waited with bated breath.

A blue light flickered from deep inside the Arkenstone, like the birth of a candle flame, and spread outwards, washing over the three. Then a near blinding flash illuminated the cave for a split second, blue and silver flames dancing around them, filling the space but not burning. The tendrils of heatless flame flickered briefly before returning to the necklace in Tauriel’s hand and containing themselves within.

The stone itself had _changed_ ; the most beautiful play of multicoloured light shone from within, illuminating its golden setting and the three faces staring down at it as if it was hit by dozens of lamps, reflecting with tiny facets.

“The King’s Jewel is restored,” Fíli said, smiling, laughing in his awe, and Kíli hugged him.

Their joy did not last as Smaug’s hiss reminded them of her presence. She no longer sounded like a woman at all. As they looked up to where she hung in the rocks they only saw a giant beast, with a lizard’s head and spines all over her back. She was enormous, even at the distance.

“Have you prepared a two course menu for me? How _kind_ of you.”

Tauriel squared her jaw as all three moved closer together, Fíli clutching the necklace, Kíli supporting her. They would get through this, no matter what, they would be together, they would not-

“I love you,” said Kíli, and laced their fingers together. She moved so she could press their foreheads together gently, and didn’t register Kíli’s widening eyes. He whispered her name, not as an endearment but as an alert, and she drew back to look at him, following his eyes down to see her hands and her hair-

_Glowing_.

She was shining, as though she were happy. Perhaps she was.

And then she had an idea. 

“What do stars do best?” she asked Kíli, cupping his cheek. She kissed him quickly, before beckoning Fíli to join them and holding onto both of them tight.

“We _shine_. I used to shine _so much_ before the Arkenstone knocked me down from the sky. It came as easy as breathing. I may be trapped below the sky, but I’m still a creature of starlight.” 

Smaug stretched her wings, ready to kick off and fly to them, ready to attack.

Fíli nodded quickly, understanding her plan.

“Kíli, hold the Arkenstone with me,” he instructed, and his brother obeyed with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s for protection, it’s meant to aid people. You can use it too. Just… just think of wanting to protect?”

The stone glowed brighter between their hands, and Tauriel stared straight into Smaug’s golden eyes, glimmering with fury in the distance. 

“Close your eyes,” said Tauriel quietly.

Smaug flew, descending fast and deadly, her teeth sharp and ready to kill, and Tauriel _shone_.

A flash of pure white and cold blue erupted through the entire cave, chasing the shadows from every nook and cranny, so bright that for a moment all was erased from sight of mortal eyes.

Tauriel was only a young star, neither ancient nor mighty, but she still was a star after all. Bright enough for her light to be seen all the way down on Arda. It was more than enough to fill this cave. 

Smaug howled in pain as though she were burning, and she crashed into a pile of treasure, roaring and scrabbling about blindly as her eyes were assaulted by the pure light and the Arkenstone’s fire.

It took a few moments for the light to retreat, but the roars of pain did not stop. Fíli and Kíli carefully opened their eyes as well and looked up where Smaug was writhing in pain, coiling like a snake in the air and smashing herself against the rocks over and over as she blindly tried to find her way. 

They had to duck when Smaug started breathing fire, but she was not aiming properly, her erratic flames not reaching them at all. She flew upwards, sightlessly searching for a hole high over the ground, leading out into a tunnel big enough for a dragon. Smaug tried to claw at her face, as if it would get rid of the pain, but all it did was making her crash against the walls.

Finally her bellows were quietened by the rock as she managed to escape, and Kíli let out a relieved laugh.

“We did it. We’re… we’re safe.”

He hugged Tauriel hard, and she laughed as well, kissing him on both cheeks and the tip of his nose.

“Your eyes!” she exclaimed as she saw them.

His eyes were longer brown, but the same sort of blue that Fíli and Dís shared.

“They’re _blue_!”

Kíli touched his cheek below his eye, staring at her.

“Oh?”

“That’s the Arkenstone,” Fíli clarified. “Magic does that if you’re around it long enough. They should change back eventually.”

He laughed as well, all three sagging against the wall, before Fíli’s smile faded.

“Thorin…” he whispered, looking up to where Smaug had flown off to.

The relief and joy were extinguished from Tauriel the instant she realised.

Wordlessly the three turned to start climbing up the rocks and out to freedom.


	50. Fire on the Mountainside

The arrows rained down on them in irregular intervals, bouncing off the army’s iron shields, with shafts getting stuck where they could. Thorin stood at the very edge of the Orcs’ range, still close to the front line and high over his people on the back of his battle ram. The oversized beast was wearing enough armour and was surrounded by enough soldiers to shield her well, so she could remain where she was, as opposed to the rest of the cavalry a little behind.

Sometimes arrows would fly above Thorin, but he knew that from where the Orcs stood and sneered, they would not be able to aim accurately at all. Even now, with a few dozens yards between the two armies the shooting was mostly blind.

Erebor’s army answered in turns, sending off waves of their own arrows with each command. Far less lethal than they might be at the distance, but the constant angry scream of Orcs assured Thorin that they weren’t wasting it either. The screams came from his own ranks as well, when something too heavy hit somebody’s shield and knocked them to the ground, when a bold found a way past that and hit the armour or worse…

Deathless lay unsheathed in Thorin’s hand, his fingers gripping hard at the sword’s hilt and his jaw twitching a little. Those moments right before the battle truly started always left him seeing sharper and slower than usual, as if his helmet both cut him off from the world and let him see it more clearly than normal.

The entire ground shook, making the Orcs yowl and jeer at each other, and briefly startled Erebor’s soldiers out of their rigid lines. Thorin held his reins and looked towards the mountain peak right ahead, furrowing his brow. What must be the entrance to a cave up above had been glowing orange for a while now, but by now it was clear that something was going on. A part of him hoped that it was nothing that would endanger his army, that it wasn’t Smaug getting ready to fight…

None of his followers would cower at least, not even from a dragon. How could they, with the sheer _mass_ of Orcs before them? They might be outnumbered, Thorin knew, but he had seen the desperate determination in his people’s eyes. They would not back down.

To his side Dáin was positioning himself on his enormous battle boar, ready to give the command to charge. The Orcs would not wait for much longer; already some made movements as if they were about to charge on their own. Their pale leader was nowhere to be seen, but that would change soon anyway; he never kept away from the fray for long. 

The time came, Thorin could practically _feel_ the tension in the air, could feel how it would snap any moment now. He raised his sword in the air, all eyes on him.

“Du Bekâr!” he roared in the Maker’s language, and the battle cry swelled up around him, mingling with the drone of one of the lieutenants raising a war horn to her lips so that none would miss the command.

The entire army set in motion like a glacier breaking apart, slow for a heartbeat and then charging just as the Orcs roared and ran towards them as well. 

And time slowed.

Battle broke Thorin’s perceptions into flashes of action and breaths of air. His heartbeat rushed in his ears, and everything was too slow and too fast at once. He slashed his sword left and right, bringing down foes while his eyes frantically searched for a flash of a white scarred body. Deathless dripped black blood in mere moments, slicing air and flesh with his mighty strokes. He kicked at any Orc close enough to try and pull him off his seat, cutting and stabbing from above, and he made his ram trample and crush any Orc who turned away or tried to attack one of his soldiers.

Something heavy hit Thorin in the back at one point, knocking the air from his lungs, and the blow of a sword was blocked by his armour but still shot waves of pain through his leg. It was only a matter of time before Thorin had to roll off the ram’s back, letting her roam free to wreak havoc among the Orcs as he landed on the ground, already soft and churned by countless warrior’s feet.

Somebody tried to take advantage of the fallen King, thinking him wounded, and Thorin retaliated nearly on instinct by cutting off that Orc’s leg with one stroke. He was on his feet again as quick as he’d fallen, fighting on harder and more agile than before.

The Pale Orc was in his line of vision out of nowhere from one moment to the next. Azog’s scarred lips twisted in a sneer, or maybe just a smile when he saw Thorin. He looked just as horrifying as he had all those years ago, a mace in his left hand and blood already dripping of the blade he’d replaced his burned arm with. Thorin’s own blood ran cold as he took him in, barely registering that the fighters around him seemed to give the two leaders a bit of a berth.

Thorin roared his challenge, not even sure what words exactly were leaving his lips. Lightning cracked in the clear sky when Thorin burst past those who were in his way, ready to attack, ready to face Azog.

Killing him would help, it would rid them of a powerful enemy and at least confuse the Orcs enough for a little while. Not all of them wanted to be here, not all knew what to do without clear instructions when facing such a large group of opponents.

Thorin blocked the first blow of Azog’s mace with his shield, the impact shaking his entire body, his own sword clashing with Azog’s ruined arm.

Their blades clashed again and again, Thorin’s strength and firm standing all that kept him from crumbling under the giant Orc’s blows. This time he _would_ kill him, he would-

Fire and something golden flashed at the edge of Thorin’s sight, and he made the mistake to look.

_The dragon._

The sight was enough of a distraction to not see the next blow coming, and Thorin was thrown off his feet by the broad side of Azog’s weapon. He screamed, but at least the Orc was distracted enough by his mocking curses that he did not turn away fast enough as Dáin charged. His mighty hammer only graced Azog’s side, but it was enough to make him stumble away and roar in anger.

Normally all three would clash once more, but at this point it seemed as if everyone on the battlefield had seen Smaug appear.

The voices rouse all around them, worry, fear, and jeers on the Orcs’ part once more. Had Erebor even had a chance of victory? Thorin couldn’t move for a moment as he saw the drake rise high up into the sky, flames pouring from her mouth. She would turn on them any moment now.

Already some of the Orcs were running away from the battle, and Azog didn’t stop him. He laughed, his eyes meeting Thorin’s.

“She will turn you all to ash,” he promised in a hiss through his sharp teeth.

“Mahal be with us,” Dáin whispered, clutching his hammer as if he was ready to fight Smaug. As if she would come close enough for that.

Thorin’s eyes moved over his people, all of them staring at the dragon high up in the sky, eyes wide. Some of them were clutching their weapons, others were rushing towards the long range crossbows that couldn’t be used in the frenzy. 

But then he glanced up to the Wind Dancer, still suspended in the sky as it had not been hit by anything the Orcs had thrown her way in between attacking the actual army. They would not be able to even hide. Still Smaug was rising and they could hear her angry roar, but Thorin could do nothing. 

*

The ship groaned and creaked at the sudden shift in angle Nori forced her into, but at least the heavy bolts from below rushed just past her hull without touching. Dwalin’s knuckles were white as he held on to the helm, fighting the instinct to right her position on his own. That was what Nori was for, quick to react and adjust the ship’s weights for her lean and exact drift. They’d decided to do it together, both of them on the bridge just in case. It was something that was only done in emergencies or when the wind put the ship in danger of losing control.

“Missed,” Bofur yelled from where he stood at the rail, holding a heavy crossbow. “We can’t aim properly unless we get closer, but I fear that the Wind Dancer would end up looking like a hedgehog on its underside.”

Bifur held his cousin in place, one hand on his harness, the other on the rigging so Bofur would be able to focus on aiming. The crew that wasn’t busy manoeuvring the ship was spread along the rail, watching the ground anxiously. They weren’t directly above the battle, and couldn’t do much, but they would call warnings when they noticed Orcs turning their own weapons towards the ship. Already some smaller projectiles had damaged her, but not enough to hamper them.

Dwalin grit his teeth as the Wind Dancer groaned again, this time as she swung back into her previous position. Everyone held on to something just in case they’d move again. Nori’s shoulder knocked against Dwalin’s as he was thrown around, still holding on to the levers of the helm. Dwalin’s hand curled around his harness on instinct, steadying him. Nori just glanced up briefly, acknowledging the help before turning his attention back to the crew.

The inability to do anything was disconcerting. Once it would have been Dwalin who fought down there with Thorin. He’d have a sword or his axes, he would cut down Orcs and roar his defiance at them, but up here there was nothing he could truly do. His sword hung at his side out of habit, but it was just as useless as he was.

Their crossbows would lose much of their power from that distance, and once or twice somebody had tried to release lightning down on the Orcs. Not that this would do much good either, as the small tubes of lightning weren’t necessarily lethal but hard to control. Sigrid stood at the bow with one of the harpoons, her hands ready on the weapon. Dwalin didn’t know how she would use it without endangering their people either. If Sigrid were to shoot downwards, who was to say that she wouldn’t hit one of Erebor’s soldiers? Their armour wouldn’t shield them from such a heavy blow.

Nori’s hand hooked around one of the helm’s grips, right between Dwalin’s arms, giving him a hard look.

“Are you distracted?” he asked quietly, so that nobody else would catch his words.

Dwalin gave his first mate one lingering look. Nori’s face was pale, his jaw set. Where Dwalin was supposed to be down in the battle, Nori was supposed to be as far away as possible. He was supposed to run, to hide, to fight to live, not to protect. He wasn’t a warrior…

And yet he’d followed…

“I’m here,” Dwalin said firmly, the brief thought banished away for later.

“We need to do more than this,” he added, gesturing at where Bofur and the other crew members were waiting with their assorted weapons. Those without long-range weapons held onto their swords and axes nervously.

Nori’s eyes flicked over the sails and the rigging, pressing his lips together.

“There’s nothing we _can_ do.”

A warning shout set them in motion, Dwalin throwing himself against the helm to turn as Nori let the stern drop. The entire ship swerved out the way of a bunch of burning bolts, narrowly avoiding the hit. One of the sails smouldered briefly, but the crew was there with buckets to take care of it before anything could happen to it.

Nori hissed as he regained his balance. That had been closer than before. The Wind Dancer couldn’t do much, but still the Orcs were keen on bringing her down. They wouldn’t last long at such close range, and all Dwalin could hope for was to control the crash and fight on in the battle.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he focused on righting the ship.

If she wasn’t built for storms and far worse conditions than erratic steering she’d have creaked and cracked and protested far more than now.

“What for?”

Dwalin looked towards the ground, where the deck’s tilt briefly gave him a clear view on the battle.

“For dragging you… all into _this_.”

Nori scoffed.

“Do you see me or _anyone_ trying to leave? I’m an idiot I suppose, and so are we all. But we’re with you, Captain.”

He glared at Dwalin.

“This is the only place I want to be… well not that I _want_ to obviou-“

The next warning came too late, and the ship shook as something hit its hull in several places.

“No fire!” Glóin roared over the shouts, and Dwalin growled.

“Carry on,” he bellowed at his crew as he saw them turn to him.

Holes in the hull would not hurt the ship for now, unless they grew too big or broke the weights that helped them manoeuvre. Everyone returned to their duties, pale, wide eyed-

Another tube of lightning was opened, the blinding crackle hitting something down below. Judging by the excited shouts it had been right on target, and Dwalin grinned with them.

“We’ll get them,” Nori laughed, voice cold.

Dwalin opened his mouth to reply, to boast and taunt as he’d always had in battle, when the noise from below turned into panicked shouts. Only seconds later the crew was shouting too, pointing towards the mountains.

Fire tainted Dwalin’s sight, though he’d ignored it before. But now, looking past the masts and the sails he saw her. The dragon rising high into the sky, winding and roaring fire.

“She’s here,” somebody stated the obvious, voice weak. A chorus of expletives rose from the crew, and Bombur could be heard praising the Maker that young Borra had been left behind in Belegost.

Dwalin’s throat was dry as he watched the dragon fly higher and higher, breathing fire as she surrounded herself with it. She wasn’t attacking, picking up altitude and moving away from the armies by doing so, moving strangely, too quick, too erratic… As if she were in pain.

Finally she spread her wings, the sun making them flash golden for a moment, at the very peak of her ascend, and then she turned, roaring in a voice that shook the mountains, turning her great head back and forth, sniffing.

“She will attack Thorin!” Sigrid cried out, turning back to look towards where Dwalin stood, looking for answers.

They all were, all waiting for the captain to say something.

If Smaug noticed them first, if she crossed their path there was _nothing_ that would save them. They all knew… They all agreed to come.

Dwalin looked at them one by one, quickly, considering, bracing himself for the order.

“If we ram her with all we have we might at least hurt her plenty,” Dwalin said, trying not to think of how that would feel like. “Will you agree?”

The silence was brief, but the ‘yes captain!’ sounded all over the deck.

A pause, then:

“I am honoured,” bellowed Dwalin over the deck, “to have served with such a fine crew.” A determined “AYYYYYYY” rang out from his loyal shipmates in reply, and Dwalin’s heart was overwhelmed with a sense of pride before reality pushed aside that last of their moment of grandeur.

His lips twitching in a pained smile, Dwalin gave the order, and all who could ran to control the sails. Nori took a deep breath, and then his hand moved over the levers on his side as Dwalin turned the ship towards Smaug. They would try and take on that beast, knowing that it would be the last thing they did. 

Dwalin’s eyes inadvertently tore away from the beast before them, moving to Nori instead. As if sensing his gaze Nori turned as well, looking up at Dwalin. He had gone even paler than before, the escaped strands of hair pushed into his face by the wind.

They would both die, and they’d been too stupid to realize… to stupid to find happiness _together_ and now it was too late. Because they would burn without…

Somehow Dwalin saw his own thoughts echoed in Nori’s eyes, saw the fear of what fate had in store for them, and the longing and regret.

‘ _Curse this_ ,’ Dwalin thought, his own blood, the wind and Smaug’s roar rushing in his ears.

They moved together, Nori standing on tiptoe and Dwalin’s arm lifting Nori up the last bit of the way as their lips met in a rough desperate kiss. Nori’s hand held Dwalin’s bearded cheek as his other arm clutched at Dwalin’s shoulders, and Dwalin felt his eyes close of their own accord. 

It seemed to be over in a heartbeat, and Dwalin reluctantly let Nori down, slightly out of breath. The moment was over as soon as it started, their attention needed by the ship once more.

The Wind Dancer was one of the fastest ships of her size, and the wind was in their favour. The hull jolted as they sped up, moving towards Smaug at a breakneck speed to match her own flight. They would hit her straight on, hurt her, and be smashed in the process. At least it would take more than one spot of fire to take them down, and they could still harm her in the meantime...

Everyone was holding on to something, bracing for the impact, and Smaug’s great head turned to them, sniffing the air and shifting from side to side in lizard-like movements. They were halfway there, and her voiced boomed as she sniffed the air once more.

“Filthy air rats,” she hissed at them from across the battlefield, recognizing the ship though her eyes swept over their general location, unfocused. “I will devour you for daring to oppose me, and I will devour every last one of the vermin below!”

Dwalin’s arm wrapped around Nori’s waist, pulling him flush against his side, and Nori mirrored him so that they both were holding on to the helm together, steering towards certain death.

Smaug shifted her entire body around, opening her maw wide. Even at the distance the rows of teeth awaiting them looked far too big and sharp to belong to a living creature. She was flying towards them as well now, ready to kill and chew up anyone who might survive.

Everyone was clutching to their weapons now, Sigrid frozen in shock at the harpoon – she would be the first to die standing so far ahead on the ship – and everyone clinging to each other as well, when they could.

“Die,” Smaug roared, the scales at her throat glowing as she prepared her fire. 

“Sigrid get back!” shouted Nori frantically, as Sigrid stayed put at the bow instead of retreating back to a safer position. She stared ahead without a single glance back at Nori.

“Sigrid! That’s an ord-”

The whirring of the harpoon nearly drowned in the noise all around them, but the sharp screech couldn’t have been ignored no matter how hard one tried.

Dwalin’s head whipped around as he tried to take in what he saw.

Sigrid still stood at the harpoon, but the bolt on it was gone, had released under her hands, and in front of them Smaug was writhing, her maw open with the glowing inside dying down. It took a moment for Dwalin to see what was going on. He stared at Smaug, and then at her chest, where the fire glow of her body was flickering. The scales looked greyer than the rest of her red and gold skin, looking to Dwalin like old dead wood that had been struck by lightning-

It _had_ been struck by lightning, when she had been blasted out the window in her weaker form…

His eyes found the metal shaft in the left side of her chest, buried more than two thirds of its length into her unguarded flesh.

Smaug screamed, her dying cries of anguish and pain loud enough that the crew had to cover their ears. She did not stop flying, even as the glow of her fiery breath died down. Dwalin’s warning shout was drowned out as Smaug dropped, her wings sagging, scrabbling blindly for the Wind Dancer before she managed to claw a hold of the wood of the starboard side.

Only his grip on the helm prevented Dwalin from flying over the rail, his hold on Nori tightening as the ship lurched violently with Smaug’s weight. The air smelled of burned and rotting flesh for a moment, and then Smaug’s hold failed and she was falling, falling without any life left in her.

The ship was above the Orcs, and Smaug’s body dropped towards them accordingly. Her great wings spread out around her as she plummeted towards the battlefield and the large number of Orcs who could not scramble away fast enough. 

The crash was the last noise filling the air, and then the crew was deadly quiet, waiting with bated breath.

The Wind Dancer did not fall, though she sank and drooped unsteadily to the side, her deck tilted as Nori and Dwalin’s combined efforts to keep her steady weren’t enough to actually straighten the damaged ship. For several moments everyone merely stared at each other and the damaged ship, and when it was apparent that she would remain in the air the cheers erupted from the crew.

After maneuvering the ship away from the mountains themselves, Dwalin let out a breath, looking at the ground in disbelief, seeing the great drake that had tortured them for so long…

… but there was the warmth of Nori’s body at his side, and Dwalin turned around fast, throwing his arms around his first mate as he let out a laugh. Nori stared at him for a moment, opened mouthed in disbelief as well. His breath came hard, and for a second Dwalin though that he was in shock, but then Nori’s fists were clutching the front of Dwalin’s jacket and pulling him down. His lips found Dwalin’s in a kiss, deeper, somehow more desperate than their first. Their noses smushed together for a moment before they figured it out, and Nori used the tilted deck to his advantage to get to Dwalin easier without having to strain up, winding his arms around Dwalin’s neck, and Dwalin was only too happy to hold and support him in his endeavour of continuing the kiss.

They only parted to breathe, Dwalin still laughing and Nori’s golden eyes fixed on his.

The realization of what they’d done, and more importantly, _where_ they’d done it came to them as the wild cheers from the crew were targeted at _them_.

Nori’s face flushed red as he looked at the crew, all of them staring and yowling. Some even had the audacity to _applaud_.

Dwalin growled, though he couldn’t help but laugh even at that, as Nori hid against him, embarrassed.

“Lay off,” the captain demanded good naturedly, but nobody listened as they whistled and shouted suggestions Dwalin couldn’t quite make out.

“Pay up, boys,” Sigrid called, her voice a little shaky and a little smug, her hand still on the harpoon. “I won the bet.”

Speaking was a mistake on her part, as the entire crew turned on her instead.

“You killed the dragon,” Lifur whispered reverently. “You did it.”

Sigrid shook her head a little, but Glóin’s voice boomed over the excited whispers.

“Sigrid the Dragon Slayer!”

“No, _no,_ stop with that nonsense, I-” she protested, shaky, but then the entire crew was upon her, hugging and congratulating and holding her as she gazed around in shock.

Dwalin wanted to join in and congratulate her personally, thank her for saving all their lives, but Nori was still in his arms. He had his priorities. 

“Gloin!” he called, and the bushy-bearded man appeared with a “yes Captain?”

“Steer her back to the camp, we’ll be safe enough to assess damage there” Dwalin ordered with a hearty pat on his cousin’s shoulder, and Gloin was tactful enough to pretend that Dwalin’s reddened cheeks were due to adrenaline. Tactful just this once. 

Once Gloin was at the helm Dwalin drew Nori to the railing and held him close, resting their foreheads together and sharing their breath.

“We’re alive,” Nori muttered, still not quite caught up to the fact.

His hands locked behind Dwalin’s neck, leaning into him.

Dwalin kissed Nori’s cheek, not wanting to break the closeness between them for even just a second.

“Yes,” he agreed, the realization of what that meant slowly sinking in. “We live.”


	51. Lady Blackbird and the Raven King

The pebbles under her boots made her steps unsure, but Dís could only hurry on down the slopes towards the valley. The sight before her eyes was truly one she’d never expected to behold.

She’d made it out of the mountain just moments before Smaug’s screeches reached her ears, and for a moment she had thought that the dragon had done something to those Dís had left behind. Instead the drake had flown out above her, writhing in pain and then…

Dís wasn’t exactly sure _what_ she had seen, but there had been the sky ship, and Smaug had roared at them in a bellow of hatred that could only be personal. That ship wouldn’t have done more than injure Smaug a bit if they were lucky, and as the ship had sailed towards the beast Dís’ heart froze, for every sailor was as good as dead. Dís had waited for the explosion of sails and timber. But even so, Smaug had reeled suddenly and scrabbled at the ship as if she were clinging for dear life, before falling. 

And now she was _dead_.

The battle was still going but it appeared that the Orcs were fleeing and those few who were still fighting seemed disorganised and leaderless, as far as Dís could tell from the distance. So many of them had been crushed by Smaug’s fall, but the danger still wasn’t over for her family either.

Dís held the knife she’d been hiding in her clothes, knowing full well that it was a poor defence against any Orcs that might cross her path on their escape. She was exhausted, the fight against Smaug having sapped her spell casting energies. Her dress and hair smelled burned and were greyed by ash, strands of it hanging into her face. The cold autumn wind had dried the sweat on her skin and now Dís was shivering a little. But she had no time to warm herself, she was too close.

The fighting was already slowing down even before Dís carefully found her way down the mountain slopes and could make out the clang of metal against metal, the triumphant shouts of Orcs and Erebor’s soldiers. By the time she reached the edge of the battlefield only a few groups of archers and riders were still pursuing Orcs, the rest had started to retreat to take care of the wounded and the dead.

It was so strange to walk across a battlefield and know that they had _won_. Many of soldiers lying on the ground were those who hadn’t been hurt too badly but just couldn’t sit up and needed their comrades to watch over them. Those who required a healer’s attention were few enough that bringing them to safety was a quick process. The carcass of Smaug loomed over the scene of disbelief and hesitant cheers of victory, smelling of scorched earth and metal.

It was such a strange situation that hardly anyone was paying attention to the woman among them, so out of place in her ragged and burned dress and not a piece of armour on her. That made it a little easier to listen to the gossip spreading quickly over the battlefield.

So few had fallen, in comparison to last time. It was _over_. It was to stay a single battle, not become a war.

This couldn’t possibly be it, how could Smaug have been slain so easily?

Dís looked up at the sky ship, which was tilting awkwardly but still in the air.

A girl who wasn’t even Ereborean had done the deed, a lass of Dale, from what the few messages between ground and ship made clear.

Azog was slain as well. It had been Dáin who had done that, beheading Azog right before Smaug fell, just as the Pale Orc had tried to do the same to Thorin.

King Thorin was alive and off to meet with his generals, but in the hustle and bustle of soldiers Dís could hardly find her way.

Dís walked past the rows of tents and armoured soldiers as if in a daze. Nobody stopped her as she plodded up the little hill where the healers’ tents stood, and the army’s leaders had gathered. Tired soldiers sat here and there, only a few looking as if they intended to properly guard anything. With their enemy defeated there was little sense in it anyway.

Dís nearly turned away when she saw Thorin bowed over a small table with some of his generals around him. They were pointing out something on a map, quietly discussing if there was any sense in trying to follow the Orcs or scouting for backup forces. Dáin was sitting a little apart, his iron leg leaned against his seat, and he just looked like any exhausted man wishing for a rest, not at all like the hero the soldiers already proclaimed him to be. He had a short coppery beard now; Dís remembered her cousin as smooth-faced and it was strange to see him look so much older just from that. Both his beard and shoulder-length hair were streaked with grey.

“What are you doing here?” a young lieutenant asked Dís as she spotted her approach.

Her eyes were moving over the state of Dís’ clothes, the burns and ash on her.

“Are you from the healers tents?”

“I must speak to the King,” Dís said quietly, looking past the woman to see Thorin still focused on the map.

“You can do that a little later,” the lieutenant tried to pacify her, gently stretching out her hand as if she meant to escort Dís away.

“No, I have to see him now.”

“Please, the King is busy and I’m sure any business you have for him can wait.”

The soldier was furrowing her brow nervously, unwilling to get harsh, and Dís could see some of Thorin’s generals glancing up already. She squared her shoulders to stand at her full height, commanding respect for who she was.

“I am sure the King has time to see his own sister.”

The words caught Thorin’s attention and his shoulders stiffened. The King raised his head away from the map and the plans, eyes sweeping around curiously before settling on Dís and widening in recognition.

Dís wanted to say something, wanted to greet him with clever words or a humorous reprimand about his appearance, but her words died in her throat. Thorin looked so much like when she’d seen him last, with the armour and the dirt from the battle still on him. The lines on his face had deepened, and there was silver in his hair now, but he still looked just like her big brother.

He whispered her name, even if Dís couldn’t even hear anything when Thorin took the few steps towards her and placed tentative hands on her shoulder, before he drew her up in his arms. Dís clung to him as well, half laughing half sobbing when he nearly raised her off her feet just as he had so many times when they were younger.

“You’re here!” Thorin whispered close to her ear, and Dís didn’t have to look to know that her brother was crying.

She was _home_.

The whispers of ‘ _Princess Dís!_ rose from the generals, all at least aware of who she was even if they hadn’t met her personally before. Even Dáin perked up.

“Cousin! You’re here to make the victory perfect!”

He slapped his knee and let out a barking laugh.

“To think that I’d live to see this family reunited- you there, my cane, quickly now, lad!”

As soon as Dáin was handed a cane he jumped off his seat and hobbled towards the pair. Thorin let go of Dís just in time for her to welcome Dáin, and knock her forehead against his. He wasn’t crying as she was, but his eyes were shining suspiciously.

“Ah- Dís… Where have you been? Were you captive in the mountain for all these years?”

“No, I was cursed and bound to a forest to the east of here. As soon as I was freed I came here to face the beast that enchanted me.”

Dáin nodded thoughtfully and Thorin was calling for something hot to drink as well as a cloak and a healer for Dís.

“Are you...um...” he tried awkwardly, suspecting that ‘ _are you well_ ’ did not quite encompass what she had endured. He grasped Dís’ shoulder.

“...Unharmed?” he managed at last.

“I should be asking you that, you’re the one covered in blood and dirt and smelling like an Orc’s dirty laundry,” she countered, wiping a smear of dirt from his cheek.

“Well you smell like you rolled around in a fireplace-”

Just like old times.

She couldn’t help the luminous smile that spread over her face at how easy this was, how light she felt to have her family there as if not a day had passed. Somehow she was sure she could hear the distant cheering of the ship above drift down to them, but she wasn’t sure.

“My sons are here… They should… They should find their way here soon. Thorin, I found _Kíli_. He was safe all these years, and they met, my children met!”

Now Dáin and Thorin’s expressions slipped, as they stared at Dís dumbfounded.

“How?” Thorin asked, eyes wide, but Dáin laughed.

“I think that story is long enough to be told over some hot wine, don’t you think?”

Thorin looked as if he was about to protest, but then he wrapped an arm securely around Dís’ shoulders and nodded.

“Then it can wait.”

*

The sun was setting by the time they made it down into the valley. Fires were burning already, and soldiers were gathered around the carcass of a dragon.

Tauriel had been the first to see that when they’d finally made it out of the cavern and the tunnels, pointing out how the sun hit against her scales. Neither Fíli nor Kíli were quite sure if they could believe it, but after Kíli had peered in the distance for a little while he confirmed that he didn’t see many Orcs, and that the figures who were moving wore polished armour. The Wind Dancer was much easier to spot than any of these things, even if the ship was hanging dangerously low and lopsided, as if damaged.

Exhausted, hungry and thirsty they made it into the camp, Fíli and Kíli carrying what they had managed to salvage of their packs from Smaug’s lair, and Tauriel leaning on either of them carefully, as her leg caused her some trouble on the steep and uneven paths of the mountainside. They didn’t know what to expect when they reached the edges of the camp, where a few soldiers stood guarding Smaug’s body, and others were erecting tents.

Right before they reached the camp, Fíli stopped and fumbled in his pocket. He withdrew his hand and produced the now-glowing Arkenstone, slipping it into Tauriel’s hand.

“This...no, this is yours,” she protested, trying to hand it back to him, but he shook his head with a smile.

“You’re bourne it for this long, Thorin should receive it from you.” Tauriel looked at him in confusion, then grumbled something about princes having a flair for the dramatic before sighing and fastening it around her neck once more, tucking it beneath her tunic.

As soon as Fíli stepped ahead to try and find somebody to take him to his uncle, all attention was on them.

“Prince Fíli!” the cries came from all directions, and it took no time at all to have a soldier in freshly cleaned armour step before them to lead them to the King.

It seemed that Fíli was known by face to all those who’d trained in Erebor’s capital at least, and he could greet those they passed.

Kíli grew increasingly nervous as he followed along. He was a prince of those people as well, wasn’t he? He wasn’t as impressive as Fíli at all, and now they would go to see the _King_ of this country as well. He might be his nephew, but Thorin was still the King and Kíli had no idea how to act or what to expect. He caught himself fiddling with his hair in an attempt to make it more presentable, and forced himself to stop.

Tauriel’s hand squeezed his as she noticed Kíli’s tenseness, and he smiled in gratitude. It didn’t take long to reach the biggest tent of the camp, the one where Thorin apparently resided. Kíli nearly turned right then and there to flee, but already the flap of the entrance was opened and the small group was escorted inside.

The first thing Kíli saw was the small cage on the ground, with a fire burning inside. There was a table with food and drinks, and a gorgeous set of golden armour was displayed in a corner, polished but with some scratches where it had seen battle. By its side there was a small cot with furs thrown across it, though it was not occupied. Kíli hardly dared look up as the soldier announced their presence before bowing and leaving.

“Fíli!”

At the sound of that deep and excited voice Kíli did glance up, first to see the princess Dís sit on a chair near the fire, wrapped in a cloak. The speaker was a man sitting at her side, but he got up as soon as the three had entered the tent. He must be King Thorin, there before them and embracing Fíli in relief. Then his eyes moved to the other two. Kíli made sure to keep steady contact with those radiant blue eyes, but he couldn’t help comparing himself to that man, trying to see him for his uncle.

He had the same dark hair as Kíli’s mother, shot with silver, and a heavy brow and sharp nose that both Fíli and Dís shared with him. He was taller than Fíli though, and there was something undoubtedly regal about him, even if Kíli would have expected him to be a bit more regally-dressed for a King. Thorin’s hair seemed to be about as long as Dís’ though it was unbound, save for two small braids at his temples, and he was wearing simple clothes, not unlike what Kíli had seen people wear in Belegost. But while the only hints of prosperity came from his signet rings and the silver-white embroidery of his vest, his manner and the way he held himself suggested that he was every inch a king.

“You must be Kíli,” Thorin said, his voice pleased as if Kíli didn’t look the furthest from a prince as possible. “I see it, your face is very much like your father’s, but there’s something of my own brother in you as well, Mahal rest his soul.”

Kíli’s lips twitched in a smile, which he tried to suppress. He couldn’t go acting like a fool in a King’s presence. But then Thorin stepped closer and put his hands on Kíli’s shoulders to knock their foreheads together gently.

“I’m glad to finally meet you, my sister son.”

At that Kíli couldn’t hide his grin anymore. His smile was so wide it nearly hurt.

“I’m glad to meet you too… even if I only found out I have an uncle a day ago or so. Um, _your majesty_ ,” he added awkwardly and nodded politely. Thorin scoffed and clapped his shoulder.

“None of that nonsense, not now that we’ve finally met. Oh Kíli...”

Thorin’s smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle, giving him the look of an uncle more than a King.

“And who are you?” he asked then, turning to Tauriel.

With a bow far too elegant to be able to do with an injured leg she greeted the King.

“My name is Tauriel. I have been a companion to your sister-sons.”

He nodded in respectful acknowledgement.

“Dís told me about you as well. I’m glad you made it out of that wretched lair, and I thank you graciously for your service to the crown and your aid to my nephew…or rather, _nephews_. I’m sure all three of you have some stories to tell. But first, let’s get you some seats and something hot to drink.”

“No, first-” Tauriel interrupted Thorin’s attempt to turn and fetch what he promised.

She reached into her shirt and pulled at the chain than now held the softly glowing Arkenstone in its setting. Taking it off she presented it to Thorin, whose eyes had gone wide. Dís sat up straighter as well, staring at it.

“Where did you get that?” Thorin breathed out, staring at Fíli and Kíli and then back to Tauriel.

“I have been carrying it since the day I stepped on Arda’s soil,” Tauriel explained. “It knocked into me so I decided to keep it, though I didn’t know what it was before I encountered your nephew.”

Thorin frowned and looked Tauriel over.

“Knocked into-? Who are you exactly?”

Tauriel glanced towards Fíli who nodded subtly, before she took a breath and looked Thorin in the eye.

“I am a star. This stone knocked me out of the sky.”

Thorin looked at his nephews again, then back at her, then back to his nephews, amazed. 

“You have found the strangest companions,” Thorin told Fíli then, and turned to get three chairs as well as more cups of mulled wine. The Arkenstone he gave to Dís, who cradled it in her hands carefully. Its light reflected off her eyes and it looked so warm now, back in the company of its rightful owners.

Tauriel smiled at Kíli, and the three of them sat down together to finally eat and drink. It was strange, Kíli realized; that he was among his family now, his real family, and the family he would have chosen regardless of birth. He hid his smile behind a cup, and listened as the others spoke, fully content.

*

Only half of the army returned to Erebor’s capital right away. Thorin left a portion of those who weren’t wounded to guard the treasure of Smaug’s lair, before they could return and see what she had stolen from their people in the last war, and what had once belonged to the people of Ered Mithrin. The rest travelled on foot or on rams, with those who were wounded the worst brought up to the Wind Dancer as she crept at a slow pace over those on foot.

Dís and Tauriel shared a ram for most of the journey, and Kíli had to take quite a while to get used to such a strange steed. It was taller than a horse, its saddle strange and uncomfortable at first too. But Fíli seemed content, and once Kíli had grown used to the animal it started to be friendly to him as well.

His mother and uncle would spend the evenings with the three, talking, introducing everyone… Kíli was treated just as Fíli was, which was the strangest thing about the entire journey.

Kíli half wished he could be up on the Wind Dancer, but none of the crew had left the ship, and no more than messages were passed. It might be less strange up with the crew, though now everyone was saying that Sigrid had slain the dragon as Dwalin had tried to ram Smaug head-on.

There was something unreal about all of it, and the morning Erebor’s Lonely Mountain came into sight Kíli realized what he had to do.

The city in the distance looked like a giant peak in the flat landscape, but Kíli didn’t ask if it had been build up like that, or if it had been build around an existing mountain. Who knew, with Arda? The castle’s spires were barely visible at the top of the mountain, shining a tiny bit as the morning sun was slowly starting to creep up over the horizon.

“You’ll see your home soon,” Fíli promised but Kíli pursed his lips.

“Not yet…”

“Why, what’s the matter?”

Kíli held his rams reigns a little more secure before he looked around.

“My father… _our_ father. Do you think we should get him?” he whispered, leaning close to his brother.

Surprise and eagerness were on Fíli’s face as he considered it.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

Kíli carefully made his ram turn around to face the west.

“Do you know the way?”

Fíli thought for a moment, before he let his ram dash to where Thorin’s was. Kíli watched them speak quietly, saw how the King furrowed his brow, but eventually nodded and waved for some pageboys to fetch Fíli necessities from the supply wagons.

When Fíli returned he was grinning.

“I do now. And I told Thorin to keep it a secret. I think mum deserves a little surprise.”

Tauriel frowned when she saw Kíli and Fíli riding the opposite way, but Kíli waved at her.

“See you in a few days, promise!”

He’d have asked her to come along, but it seemed that the star’s enjoyment of travelling had been exhausted with her injury and the battle with Smaug, and even moving by steed was unpleasant for her. And truth be told, Kíli was a little self conscious of her seeing his hometown, compared to the wonders that they had witnessed in Arda. She frowned a little, but then smirked and waved back at them.

“You’d better, _your highness_ ” she called after them, and Kíli stuck his tongue back at her.

“Now,” Fíli said as soon as the rams had trotted a little while and left the army behind.

“Show me that world of yours.”

*

They rode at an easy pace for a few days, stopping in an occasional village to rest and pay for a bath and to take care of their clothes. News of the battle’s outcome had spread quickly, and there was a mood of celebration over the land, along with the joy of bringing in the fall’s harvest slowly. The news that the long lost princess and her child had reappeared also made their rounds, and those who recognized Fíli now watched Kíli with doubled curiosity as well.

Neither of the two was in any mood to stay put for longer than the rams and themselves needed to rest. Both were filled with anticipation, and on Fíli’s part, nervousness. 

The area before the wall was all light forest and untouched nature, just as it had seemed like from the other side, nothing special. It was a warm sunny morning when they reached it, and Fíli decided to leave the rams behind, to be cared for in the stables of the nearby market town. It wouldn’t make any sense to take them into England. Fíli and Kíli figured they would stand out enough on their own, with their fashion and hair that was just unusual enough to be noticeable. And the fact that they were walking into town from the direction of The Wall and not the main roads.

“The wall will be guarded,” Kíli said as they walked along the path leading towards the gate between the worlds.

“We’ll need words and persuasion, it should be fine,” he added when Fíli frowned and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The trees grew sparser and then they were out of the forest, the wall only a few metres away from them. Kíli half wondered who’d be on guard duty that day. Some of the elders took their guard post very seriously, others took the time to relax or even nap.The guard that morning was an old man with a grey beard that was well groomed but slightly too long to be in fashion, as if he’d forgotten to trim it. He was smoking a pipe comfortably and not looking like he was taking his task seriously at all. Kíli had seen him around a few times, though he could not remember his name, or recall having spoken to him at all; he always seemed to be away on business, or abroad, and smelled of a rather unusual tobacco blend. 

The old man winked at the approaching princes, taking in their looks.

“Good day,” he greeted, and Fíli and Kíli returned it.

“It’s not often that somebody wants to cross the wall from _that_ side, I must say. I doubt there’s even a protocol for that sort of thing, the wall is mostly for keeping these folk-” here he gestured vaguely towards the village “-from going _there_.” Here he gestured at the two boys before him. “What shall I do with you, hm?”

“We won’t be here long, sir” Kíli promised, seeing the recognition in the man’s eye. “I’m the whitesmith’s apprentice and I live here, we just want to fetch our father.”

“Ah, Sterling, is it? I’ve heard about you. Caused quite a stir, leaving just as your father did before you. Sure sure, come along.”

The man gestured towards the direction of the little town grandly, and Kíli stepped over the wall as Fíli followed him a little hesitantly.

“Take your time,” the man suggested, and then returned his attention to his pipe.

“What now?” Fíli asked as they started walking up the hill.

“I suppose we should try his shop first? I think he’s working… Though I don’t even know what day it is, truth be told.”

Fíli laughed, and together they walked towards the houses. Fíli looked around curiously as he followed his little brother, and Kíli tried not to meet anybody’s eye. So few were out in the streets, but already they were staring, so he squared his shoulders and walked with a confidence that came easily to him now. If he ignored them they’d leave him be as well. He had to see his father before anything else.

The shop’s doors were closed when they arrived, and Kíli tried to peek through the windows to see what was going on inside. He shielded himself against the sun with his hands to avoid just staring at his own reflection, though it made no difference.

“Excuse me, lads?”

They turned to see a small curly-haired man stand a little apart, staring openly at the two with his hands on his hips.

“Kíli Sterling, isn’t it? What are you doing here looking like this, out of the blue? It’s been months!”

“Oh, good morning Mr. B, do you know where my father is?” Kíli asked back, and the man gave a long-suffering sigh.

“No, Master Sterling, he is at home doing his paperwork today, it’s my day to run the shop. You’ll be scaring off all the customers with your - heavens above, is that a _sword_?! What on earth do-”

“Thank you!” Kíli called happily and grabbed Fíli’s hand to drag him away before the man could protest any more.

They hurried through the streets at a rapid pace now, every step closer to his home making Kíli’s excitement bubble up even more and spur him on faster, and Fíli was matching his speed with no protest.

When they reached the front step, Kíli paused, hand ready to knock, before shaking his head and pushing the door open, calling out “Daaaaa!” as loudly as he could.

They didn’t have to go far after that, and Philip was there, rising from his seat at the kitchen table with surprise on his face.

“Kíli!” he called out as he saw his son, letting out a small ‘oof’ when Kíli leaped forwards to hug him hard.

“Dad, look who I found in Arda, look who’s here,” Kíli cried out excitedly, pointing at Fíli, who was hanging back a little. His enthusiasm was washing over him, making him want to just show them as soon as he could.

Philip staggered a bit when Kíli let go of him suddenly, staring at Fíli. The prince looked flustered before he pulled himself into a more formal stance.

“You… are you… Fíli? How can this be?” Philip whispered as he stared at Fíli in disbelief.

“We returned the Arkenstone and Lady Dís, mother I mean, helped us slay Smaug, and were on our way back to Erebor when we thought…” Fíli said softly, still a bit unsure of what else to say.

“Fíli, my boy,” Philip whispered, stretching out his hands to touch the son he hadn’t seen in nearly eighteen years.

He didn’t say another word, and anything Fíli tried to get out was muffled when he was pulled in a hard hug.

Kíli grinned as he saw Fíli peek at him from over Philip’s shoulder before hugging his father back.

“I’ll be outside,” Kíli said, leaving the two alone. He’d missed his father, but not nearly as much as Fíli must have.

 

*

The next morning, Kíli was washing the breakfast dishes as Fíli helped their father pack for the journey back to Erebor. The previous day had been rather hectic after their reunion (and the cup of tea, and the lunch that Philip insisted on serving them, and Kíli showing off their clothes and weapons), with Philip running around the town trying to sort out his business affairs and pass the ownership of his shop to his business partner (Kíli was _sure_ his name was Boggins, though he called him Mr. B just to be safe, for fear of offending the easily-flustered man). 

There was a knock at the door, and a muffled voice could be heard through the wood.

“Kíli?”

Drying his hands, Kíli opened the door to find Ned. A pang of guilt shot through him, as he’d not even considered that he’d meet him again, but then he smiled, realising that he was happy to see him.

“Ned,” he said, smiling more.

Ned looked good in his new elegant suit, dark hair combed stylishly and the new addition of a small moustache resting proudly on his upper lip. He was looking Kíli up and down with wide eyes, lingering on the strange clothes, as well as on Kíli’s slight stubble and his longer hair.

“You look… different,” he got out after a few moments, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to you? We all thought you just… I didn’t know what happened.”

“I was travelling Arda… the other side of the wall, I got all this there,” Kíli said, reaching down to grab his sword, which was with Fíli’s resting against the wall next to the door. Ned’s eyes were wide as saucers as Kíli handed it to him with a shrug and a smile.

“Oh? Hunting treasures?”

“Yes. I found the star, like I said I would.”

Ned’s eyes widened.

“You did? Where is it, did you bring it?”

“No. Stars aren’t _things_ in that world. It’s a young woman, not a crystal or light or whatever else I was thinking… I couldn’t bring you back a woman, could I now?”

Ned looked a little disappointed for a moment, then he laughed.

“No, but _look_ at you, Kíli. You’ve grown, you look so much older than before, when did that happen? What have you been up to?”

Kíli smiled, strangely happy to find that he didn’t feel any sadness or love or heartache. Just soft affection, like for a friend.

“I fought monsters and sailed the skies on a flying ship hunting lightning. I faced off a dragon, and apparently I’m the lost prince of the kingdom right behind the wall, and that my father is married to a princess.”

Ned stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for Kíli to crack up or say it was a joke, but he didn’t. He’d never been a good liar, so Ned nodded in confused respect.

“You should tell me about it soon,” he asked, and Kíli shrugged.

“Maybe one day.”

Before he could think better of it he added: “Also… about your promise… I wanted to apologise. I thought you’d come back within a few days, but when you didn’t I thought you’d wandered off to your death because of me. I’m sorry.”

“Well I’m here now.” And before he could think better of it, he added, “and about what we said back then… I don’t expect you to hold that promise. We wouldn’t have worked out, I don’t think.”

Ned opened his mouth, then closed it. They looked away from each other for a few moments, before Ned smiled again.

“I have a fiancé now,” Ned admitted. “A lovely girl from Knottingley. She’s nice enough and pleasantly indifferent to me, and her brother is...well, _not_ indifferent.”

“Ah,” said Kíli with a small smirk.

“I didn’t want to upset you with that so soon after your return, but I thought you deserved to know.”

Kíli smiled, not feeling any jealousy at all.

“I hope you’ll be happy.”

He heard Philip call his name from inside the house, so he smiled at Ned and waved in goodbye.

“We’ll see each other again, I think,” he said. “Farewell, and good luck.”

Kíli watched him walk down the lane before he remembered something.

“Ned, wait!”

The young man turned to look back at him.

“I was right about Arda, and men being together there. I met quite a few men like… like us. Who were open about it, and could touch in public with hardly a sideways glance thrown their way. Everyone was a lot happier about it, mostly. I just thought you’d like to know such a place does exist.”

Ned looked at him thoughtfully, before nodding and continuing on. Kíli closed the door, feeling strangely happier with the closure. It really was better like this. Besides, he had found true love after all.

*

They only stayed in England for a few days. The first evening, Philip had made a dinner big enough for the three of them, to share stories and enjoy each other’s company as a family, It was surprisingly easy like that. After Ned left, Fíli and Kíli explored the area away from town, the fields and rocks Kíli had played on as a child, while Philip settled his affairs. The house and the shop would be taken care of by trusted friends, for rent or to be used until (or if) he returned to the town.

Kíli tried not to draw attention to himself in town much, unsure of if he wanted to deal with the attention. Small flocks of girls and curious boys followed him and Fíli wherever they went, whispering excitedly.

When all was dealt with, and Philip had packed food and all he wanted to take along, they set out. Nobody stopped them at the wall, and after a short walk they’d reached the town with the rams’ stables. Philip was a little nervous to climb on one of the beasts, but Fíli helped him keep his balance and showed him how to hold on.

They rode faster than they did on the way to England, the rams content with the pace and sensing their riders’ urgency to reach their destination. Kíli wanted to see Tauriel, and his father and brother were anxious to see the palace again.

When the capital was close they rode through the night, not resting until they reached the city gates and were let through with no questions when Fíli was recognized. Further up through the streets Kíli could barely make out the way in the grey pre-dawn light. The palace itself seemed half asleep as well, but there were some lads minding the stables who took over the rams and saw to bringing the packs up to Fíli’s rooms.

Inside the palace only a few lamps were lit, but even in the pre-dawn gloom the place was magnificent. Kíli peered around open mouthed at the tall walls in green stone, and its strange silver and gold embellishments shining where the light reached them.

Both Fíli and Philip had seen it before of course, and hurried along, so Kíli followed. Up some staircases and across a small yard with trees and a gently bubbling fountain they walked higher into the palace, towards the private wings of the royal family and its guests.

“Where is the Lady Dís,” Fíli would ask occasionally, when they walked past sleepy looking servants or guards.

Most wouldn’t presume to try and wake her, but a few seemed to know that the princess had been up at odd hours ever since she’d returned to the palace, and tended to visit the rookery in the early morning. Fíli bid one of the maids to hurry ahead to let Dís know that her sons had arrived.

They slowed a little, and Kíli took the time to look around once more. They were high enough that the window panes taking up the entire wall of the hallway didn’t show any glimpse of the city below. There were just mountains in the dark distance, and light blue and pale yellow light painting the horizon. Long shadows were cast in the hallway, and the first spots of golden sunlight started to appear.

Soon enough Dís’s footsteps could be heard hurrying across the stones and she came into view out of the shadowy hallway, adjusting a shawl around her shoulders. She smiled when she spotted her sons, but when she took in the group as a whole she froze. 

Philip stood before her, shifting his weight and letting his pack fall from his shoulder without looking away. Neither said a word as they stared at one another. Philip still looked so much like an Englishman in his nice but travel-ruffled clothes; Dís, with her simple but finely made blue dress with a shawl around her, was still so obviously a lady from another world, especially as the rising light of dawn cast a golden shine upon her.

“Lady Blackbird,” Philip said finally, smiling shyly. “I’m pleased to meet you again.”

Dís hand trembled as she covered her mouth, her proud eyes filling with tears.

“Philip-“

She choked back a soft sob and moved forwards, Philip doing the same so that they met in the middle, catching each other in a desperate embrace. They were half laughing half crying quietly, Dís’ hands clinging to the back of Philip’s shirt as he stroked her hair carefully.

“Let’s go,” Fíli whispered, barely audibly as he tugged at Kíli’s sleeve to drag him away.

They left quietly, back into the dimly lit hallways away from the windows and in the direction of the kitchens.

The particular kitchen Fíli led them to (he assured Kíli that the palace had several of different sizes) was a little bigger than what Bombur had in Belegost, with enough room to have several cooks prepare meals for more than just one family and their guests, though it surely wasn’t meant to host dinner parties. There was a table as well, to have a company sit in the warmth of the room and enjoy a meal, and several stoves. Of the things that Kíli had expected to see, Nori standing at a stove and stirring something in a little pot wasn’t one of them.

“What are you doing here?” Kíli blurted out before he could think. 

Nori gave him a look that was half grin, half sneer.

“Finds out he’s a prince and suddenly others can’t use his kitchen? ‘ _Oh hello to you too, Nori, glad to see you’re still alive after the captain decided to fly a ship right at a dragon_ ’, ‘ _oh thank you Kíli, yes we’re all fine, which you surely would have heard if you’d stayed before running off on another quest_ ’.” 

He dropped the sarcasm and scoffed. 

“And I’ll have you know that we were _invited_ , I didn’t just sneak into the smaller of the palace kitchens for a lark.”

There was no malice in his voice though, and his smile was genuine.

“But… what _are_ you doing here?” Fíli said after a while. “The kitchen, not the palace I mean. Even most of the staff aren’t awake at this hour.”

Nori carefully added something sweet-smelling out of a small spice pouch into the pot and stirred on.

“I wanted mulled wine, lad. And I don’t like others making it for me if I don’t even know them.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“So I hear you’re brothers now?”

“Um...guess so?”

“Did you find your father?”

“We did.”

“And?”

“He just reunited with mother…”

Nori nodded.

“Wise of you to run away then.”

Nori proceeded to stir the pot until a young lass entered the kitchen and frowned at him, before she spotted the princes.

“Oh! Came for a breakfast, your highness… highness- _es_?” she asked excitedly.

Fíli nodded.

“That would be very welcome, thank you. We’ve travelled all night.”

“Osha, at your service,” she said, bowing to Kíli before quickly fetching a large pan and setting up at a different stove than Nori’s.

“I see you’ve met the kitchen’s resident sailor,” she grumbled. “It’s not often that guests try to make use of this place before any of us are even awake!”

She threw some butter on the pan to heat up, and quickly fetched some tea from a nice steaming kettle to set out for Fíli and Kíli as they sat down at the table.

Kíli watched sleepily as Nori monitored his wine and Osha fried up some eggs and sausages for them. He wanted to find a nice soft corner to lie down and sleep in, but his hunger kept him from trying to nap right there at the table.

Nori was done sooner than the breakfast. He carefully sifted the larger spices out of the wine and poured the liquid into a big jug that could be closed. He cleaned the utensils he’d used and put them up to dry, then took two silver goblets and moved past the table with one last glance over Fíli and Kíli.

“Breakfast’s ready,” Osha announced moments later, and set out two plates with beautifully large piles of amazingly smelling food.

“Ah,” Kíli moaned as he took it in before grabbing his fork and shoving a sausage into his mouth. “Nothing like a good hearty meal.” 

This with a mouth full of sausages sounded like “muhuhng nghhuh gnnghtahrhyeel,” but Fíli seemed to understand him well enough.

Fíli grinned as he took his fork to eat slower and neater.

“Welcome home, brother.”


	52. Sail Back Home

Though the palace guest rooms had gorgeous furnishing and the biggest, most comfortable beds, Dwalin found himself sleeping on the large comfortable couch more than once. 

The couch, even with its many soft cushions, was big enough for two to be comfortable enough on it. Dwalin’s arm tightened around Nori’s waist, where his first mate was lying half on top of him, vest and shirt slightly rumpled. Nori was dozing a little, and Dwalin was sure he’d barely even moved after both of them had fallen asleep. The empty cups they’d drunk from still stood on the small table by the couch, the pretty carafe by their side. Dwalin couldn’t see at the angle, but something told him that they must have had most of the wine Nori originally had scavenged from the kitchens.

While they might call on servants or ask for food and drink to be brought to their rooms, the entire crew of the Wind Dancer had more or less made it clear that they didn’t need that kind of service. Their rooms were largely left alone, unless something had to be tidied up. They’d been there for two weeks after all, while the ship was being repaired.

Dwalin missed his ship, longing to be back on her to sail for those last months before winter would truly strike and make the weather unsuitable for long flight. But it was _nice_ to rest for a little. They’d seen battle and had all nearly died, and Dwalin knew for sure that at least half his crew would love any opportunity to stay in the royal palace and be treated as heroes and friends. He was glad to have his family there as well, being able to see Dís and speak to her, and even have Philip around once more. He’d always liked his cousin’s husband.

Nori snorted a little as he stirred from his light sleep, stretching and wrinkling his nose. Another thing Dwalin enjoyed greatly.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he joked, as Nori blinked up at him and squinted.

It was dark in the room, the lamps having burnt low and the night sky providing dim silver light from the windows. Nori still looked lovely even in the twilight.

“I’ve not slept that long,” Nori mumbled, glancing towards the windows. “Don’t lie, you’ve been asleep as well.”

Dwalin grinned and pulled his first mate closer. He was so warm against his chest, it made his heart skip a beat. Nori leaned closer on his own, sleepily searching out Dwalin’s lips to press a soft kiss against them.

“Hm, you’re so warm,” Nori practically purred, then leaned over Dwalin to reach for one of the wine cups. He raised it to peer inside, squinting through the dark, and then let it clunk back on the table when he found it empty.

“Warm enough that I’m not even going to get up to get more wine.”

He said it like an insult, and Dwalin chuckled before reaching up to rub Nori’s side.

“Do you want me to get you some?”

He was answered with a sleepy whine.

“I said you’re too warm! You’re not leaving me in the cold!”

The room they were in was incredibly warm, cooler than the bedrooms were kept perhaps, but certainly not cold enough for a night time chill. Not to mention that Nori was still fully dressed.

“Not leaving,” Dwalin promised, and Nori scooted closer for another kiss.

Nori’s lips were incredibly soft and still tasted of the cinnamon he’d put into the wine. Dwalin pet along his braid, up until he could cradle his head gently, deepening the kiss.

It was amazing to hold Nori like that, feel their lips move against each other gently. After a few moments Nori started to relax, melting against Dwalin and moaning when Dwalin held him even closer in turn.

Nori’s hands twisted in Dwalin’s shirt, tiny gasps of pleasure escaping his lips as Dwalin’s hands moved over his body. His fingers found Nori’s waistband, pushed their way further down to get a nice handful of Nori’s firm little arse and-

Within a second Nori’s entire demeanour changed. He froze, his hands going slack as every other inch of his body went stiff. His head turned away from Dwalin, just enough to put him out of reach for kisses.

Dwalin cursed internally as he raised his hands, letting them hover just above Nori’s body. His instinct was to hold onto Nori once more, but Nori’s behaviour made him unsure of what touches would be welcome.

If Nori just wasn’t in the mood they could resume kissing, or napping on the couch once more. But this was what happened every single time, when things got heated and Dwalin went just that little step too far into the direction of doing more. Every single time Nori would close off or look torn and upset by something; enough to ruin the mood for him. Every single time he would have a different excuse too.

“It’s late,” Nori muttered now, not looking the least bit tired anymore. “I should- sorry, I need the loo.”

Dwalin didn’t try to stop him as Nori crawled over him and got up from the couch. He watched his first mate disappear into the bathroom of their quarters. With anyone else Dwalin would have held on, asked whether he’d done something wrong. Especially with how Nori had acted that way every single time, being seemingly interested but moving away before they could do anything-

He threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.

In this case he knew exactly what was wrong. It was stupid to expect that Nori would truly trust him after the past weeks, right before the battle. Nori might say he’d forgiven him, he might act like it, but he wasn’t the sort of person who forgot a slight easily. That was how he’d stayed alive for years and years…

All Dwalin could do was regret and hope that one day Nori might come around to truly believing him in his heart once more. There was little Dwalin could do to push the matter, or else Nori might feel pressured. It was the last thing Dwalin wanted. 

*

Lights glittered all around them in the small ballroom. The candles and lamps gave the amber and bronze coloured walls a warm glow, and sparkled off the crystal cups in everyone’s hands.

Most of the crew was there, as well as the royal family itself. For a gathering with the royal family, it was quite a casual affair The servants weren’t truly mingling, but even they sat near the table with carafes and plates of refreshments, chatting and eating in between walking around to make sure their help was not needed. One of them was even letting Bofur flirt with her; Nori smirked as the engineer twiddled his moustache and gave the woman a charming smile.

He smiled as he watched everyone, preferring to observe everyone from the sideline.

Most of Dwalin’s relatives were people Nori had met at least once before, even the King himself. There were others though, such as Lord Dáin, whom Nori had never personally met though he knew Dwalin would sometimes write letters for him. 

Nori liked him well. For all that Dáin was boisterous he was a good-natured man.

Princess Dís was somebody everyone knew by name if not in person. The spell caster who had been abducted by the Dragon in the last war, now returned to them after playing a large part in the slaying of said Dragon. She looked the part too, Nori thought. Her elegant mauve dress and the silver hair net and jewellery did not entirely disguise her fierce nature. She was as much a warrior as her cousins and brother. Seeing her, Nori had no trouble believing that she had done all that was proclaimed of her.

Prince Philip was interesting as well, though he didn’t look very Ereborean. His hair was short and his beard was trimmed in a way that wasn’t quite fashionable for Erebor’s capital, but then again he’d just spent nearly two decades of his life in a different world, and had grown up there at that. Princess Dís made up for any cultural difference by practically sitting in his lap and using him as if he were a throne at every opportunity. 

Though Nori hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to him at length, it was clear that he was a good man. He evidently knew the palace, and one couldn’t deny the similarity he had to both Fíli and Kíli.

Remembering that Kíli was also a prince made Nori snort. He was so… not like a Durin. Though perhaps Nori hadn’t recognized the obvious traits. One didn’t expect a lost member of the royal family to crash into their ship during a thunderstorm after all.

Taking the last sip of his mead, Nori moved along the edge of the room.

The wall of many big windows overlooking the land below offered an amazing view, with the slope of the city below, and fields upon fields with a few villages and towns if one looked ahead. He wasn’t alone in his attraction to the gorgeous view.

Kíli and Tauriel stood by themselves at one of the windows. The way they bowed their heads together and giggled quietly made it clear that there was some secret, and Nori didn’t hesitate as he crept closer.

“I’m telling you, according to that book I found yesterday it’s only a three day’s worth of riding to the south of here,” Tauriel whispered.

“I want to go there,” Kíli nodded. “And that other place you mentioned before? We have to go see all of it!”

“Do you think we can do it before the snow comes in winter-”

“Planning to escape the life at court so soon?” Nori joked, grinning as the two startled and turned around to stare at him with a blush and wide eyes.

“N-no I’d never!” Kíli stammered, and then calmed after a moment. “I just mean… There’s so much we could see around these parts.”

They still looked like children who’d been caught stealing sweets, even as Nori waved them off. It seemed like the two had helped themselves to a few drinks as well.

“You can assemble a party and go anytime you want, you know. You do have authority now.”

Kíli screwed up his nose and Tauriel shook her head.

“That’s no fun,” she said, and then looked guilty again.

Did they think they’d be trapped in the palace? 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Nori promised with a wink and a finger put to his lips. “Now off you go.”

The two scurried away quickly, heading to join Fíli where he was talking to one of the crew. Nori rolled his eyes and stepped closer to the window himself.

It wasn’t a very good angle, but if he stepped close enough and looked as far to the side as the window permitted, he could see the Wind Dancer floating in the air peacefully. She was still being repaired, but at least she had stopped looking like a wreck, with most of the singed and crushed parts replaced and cleaned up. No longer did she sag to the side, or look as if she would break apart at a light summer breeze.

It was calming to watch, and Nori stood undisturbed as he drank from his cup. Only when he noticed that it was empty once more did he turn around to refill it and observe the others.

Bofur was still flirting with the same serving-woman; by now Nori was sure that somebody would not be sleeping in their bed that night. Tauriel had left Kíli with Fíli, and now stood by Sigrid’s side. The young Dragonslayer looked a little shy each time somebody tried to praise her, but she stood proud in a dress embroidered in patterns traditional for her people. Sigrid ducked her head with a smile when Tauriel laid a hand on her shoulder.

Nori’s eyes searched for Dwalin. The Captain stood at his King’s side, close enough that Nori could pick out their conversation. A smile spread on his lips and he nearly stepped closer to wrap his arm around Dwalin’s. Would probably be inappropriate in the presence of Thorin, but Nori was warm and tipsy and hardly cared.It was so strange and amazing to actually have him now, to be loved and appreciated. To be able to kiss him and sometimes share a bed with him-

“You should stay,” Thorin said, clasping Dwalin’s shoulder with a smile. “There’s always room for you here, you know that. And things to do, if you worry about being idle.”

Dwalin laughed.

“Oh I know you’ll keep me on my toes with something or other. And I do miss this place.”

Nori’s smile froze on his face.

“Everyone in your crew could stay as well, if they wish to. They are heroes of Erebor now, and will always be welcome as guests,” Thorin went on, smiling, and Nori felt his stomach churn.

He knew that Thorin had asked Dwalin about that, more than once. Nori already knew that nothing would keep him in the palace on a permanent basis. The Wind Dancer was his home, and he would not leave her, not ever. Dwalin loved his ship as well, saw it as his home, but-

Thorin was his _King_.

It was why he kept moving away when Dwalin was kissing him. Dwalin’s kisses and touches made him crave more, made him think of all the nice times they’d get to do this in their own cabin on the Wind Dancer- only to them have the uncertainty over Dwalin’s choice taint any joy he’d feel at the time.

Thorin and Dwalin started to move on, walking over to Dís and Philip were. Nori took a soft shuddering breath, the only weakness he permitted himself, and drained his cup in one go.

The room seemed to spin for a moment, and Nori shook his head as he went in search for more to drink. He didn’t want to deal with these thoughts right now.

“Can we have some music in here? Anyone willing to play us a tune?”

Somebody called it out into the room, and Nori ignored it for a moment.

“Let’s hear it? Bofur!”

“Sure-“

“No! He can’t play when he’s been drinking wine, you don’t want to hear him do that to a flute-“

“Oh come now-”

“Let Fíli play?”

Nori turned his head to see Fíli shake his head hard.

“I’m not risking my violin. How about singing? Father?”

Several voices called out in agreement, but Philip waved off, blushing.

“You know I can’t sing!”

The encouragement didn’t die down, and he whispered something to Dís quickly, who still was sat in his lap. She laughed, and put an arm around his shoulders.

“Let me save you my dear. I shall sing in your place”

Again, everyone agreed. She thought for a moment as the conversations died down, and Philip whispered something to her once more. She smiled, nodded, and sat up a little straighter to sing better. Her voice was deep and clear, perfectly suited for a larger audience, and she started a familiar melody:

_‘Settle down and listen well_  
_For I’ve a story grand to tell_  
_Of a jewel, the Arkenstone_  
_The heart of Erebor, it’s known_  
_From the throne it went amiss_  
_And as all tales, it starts with this’_

‘ _Lovely Lady, fly so free_  
_O’er the world above the trees_  
_See the world and have your fun_  
_But please say you’ll return to me,_  
_To me, to me,_  
_Promise you’ll return to me_ ’

 

It was the melody of a folk song everybody knew, and everybody knew different versions of. A light tune, and beautiful the way Dís sang it, but somehow it triggered memories in Nori that made him want to be anywhere but here.

She was perfect, just like everyone else in this damn royal family. Just like Thorin was.

It would be so easy for them to take what Nori had; not even on purpose or out of malice, not even knowing they were hurting him, in ways that made it impossible to truly have a right to protest-

The room was still spinning as Dís sang of a tale where the Arkenstone was stolen as a bargaining chip in some long-ago war, and Nori desperately drained another cup of mead. Somehow everything was too warm now, too close, too _pretty_ and rich.

The ship would be empty now, he knew, and before anyone could take note of him, he’d slipped out of the room.

 

*

The ship was so incredibly quiet where she hung suspended in the air. Nori could see where it had been fixed already, looking as good as new with the broken wood fixed up and the planks being replaced. Here and there somebody had left materials and tools on deck.

Now the Wind Dancer was quiet, and she was his for the night.

Nori moved slowly over the deck, looking around. The bottle he’d snagged knocked against his leg with every step, but he paid it no mind. Erebor was build high as a mountain, and the palace’s wharf was high enough to give him the illusion of actually being up in the air, rather than docked with a damaged ship.

Nori made his way to the bridge and leaned against the rail for a moment, staring out into the night sky. There were some clouds here and there, painted silver by the moon, and the peaceful scenery nearly calmed him. Nearly.

He sank to the ground, making himself comfortable between the rail and a barrel. It was cool, so Nori grabbed some piece of heavy cloth lying around, disregarding how carefully it had been folded, to pull it around his shoulders. Like that he could sit and drink, and ignore his thoughts.

The wine he’d grabbed was less nice than most of the palace fare but it would do. 

Despite himself Nori couldn’t shake the overheard conversation snaking their way into his head. Thorin had suggested that any of the crew could stay in Erebor, but it was clear that he would like Dwalin to be the one to remain above all else. And when a King wanted something very much… Dwalin had always been so loyal.

Of course Nori could stay as well, but what was he supposed to do in the capital? His place was on the Wind Dancer, and if Dwalin decided he wouldn’t stay… he’d leave Nori as well.

Nori drained half his bottle in a few angry swigs, feeling the booze slowly twist his head and stomach a little. He’d already drank too much, along with the cups of who knew what which he’d lost count of.

The song the princess had sung earlier came to mind again, and Nori leaned his forehead against the rail. The melody was stuck in his head, along with the memories of all the versions he’d heard through the years. 

Peeking past the wood to see the stars again Nori thought back to when he was just a small child, hungry and cold and cuddled under a blanket as Dori was out somewhere earning a few coins, and his mother was patching up some clothes for some stranger.

She’d sing as she worked sometimes, to keep her rhythm or pass the time when her hands worked. Sometimes it was lullabies for her children, but sometimes, when she thought Nori was asleep or not around, she would look out of the window. Singing that song, the longing and sadness thick in every word as she gazed outside, waiting for a warrior who had answered the king’s call and might never return.

“ _Captain Captain, march back home…_ ”

Nori couldn’t remember his father properly, but he could remember being small and afraid when he saw how sad his mother was… He’d never quite connected to any of the happy versions everyone else seemed to have of that silly little folk song.

With a sigh Nori raised the bottle to his lips to take another swig, but reconsidered. Instead he opened his mouth, and began to sing quietly, as his mother had.

' _Captain Captain, sail back home_  
_Loyal to royalty, I know_  
_Do your duty, serve your king_  
_But please say you’ll return to me_  
_To me, to me,_  
_Promise you’ll return to me_ '

He snorted as soon as he was done, angry at the lump in his throat, angry at the tears welling up in his eyes and spilling over his cheeks. Nori rubbed at his eyes angrily, drying the tears and cursing the alcohol. He’d truly had too much if he was reacting like this. Even the stars were going fuzzy.

He set the bottle down on deck with a loud _‘thunk.’_.

A noise from the deck startled Nori and he squinted into the darkness behind him, already reaching for his knife before he saw that it was Bifur. He stood on the bridge on the opposite side of Nori, staring at him as he held a whittling knife and a little block of wood in his hands.

For a second Nori tensed, angry that he let somebody see him in his current state, before his shoulders dropped again as he registered that he didn’t mind Bifur being there. Bifur was part of his family by now, and he would never tell anyone or use it against Nori in any way.

After a few more moments Bifur had taken in Nori’s state enough to decide he wanted to stay, and went up to sit in the middle of the bridge, right in front of the helm, to start working on his new figure.

Nori rubbed at his cheeks again, hiding the evidence of his tears. He watched Bifur work, listened to the familiar sound of a knife chipping away against wood. A part of him wanted to resume his drinking, but the booze was already clouding his mind and he didn’t want to be doing that in front of anyone else.

“What’cha making?” Nori asked, when the silence on deck was starting to make his skin itch. His head was spinning and somehow it seemed wrong to him to be silent after his vulnerability had been witnessed. Even though this was Bifur, somebody he could trust.

Bifur looked up from his work slowly, staring into the night for a moment before finally turning his head to look at Nori. He put his work away and started moving his hands.

Nori squinted, confused for a moment before he realized that Bifur was signing. 

“What-“ he muttered to himself, trying to will his wine-muddled mind to work properly.

Bifur seemed to realize Nori’s problem, as he got up and walked closer, standing right above him. He signed much slower than he usually did with Nori, carefully picking easier signs that Nori could recognize in the dark.

“ _You are trying to kill your problems with wine?_ ”

Nori bristled a little at that. 

“I’m not! I just wanted a drink and… had too many.”

“ _I know how you drink, and right now you do it because you hope it will make you forget what is on your mind,_ ” Bifur signed back, unimpressed by Nori’s excuse.

His eyes were completely black in the dark, and they were focused on Nori with a near unnatural intensity. Bifur had always been terribly perceptive to things like this.

Nori took a shuddering breath and shook his head. Bifur was speaking, growling and harsh in the language Nori had never learned. He glanced back up just in time to see Bifur sign to accompany what he was saying.

“ _I did hear you sing._ ”

He sat down on the deck by Nori’s side, staring at him. Nori sighed, looking away from him for a moment. One never could avoid looking at Bifur without knowing the ancient language of their people, or else they’d miss what he was meaning to say.

“It’s what my mother used to sing,” he said, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. One or two changed words didn’t make it too different.

“ _What did he do?_ ” Bifur asked immediately, guessing the crux of the matter.

He signed ‘loyalty’ with one hand and moved his other hand across his face in one harsh movement, indicating where Dwalin’s scar would be.

Bifur growled something quietly. Loyal he might be, but Bifur did not care for titles or formalities. If one of his family had hurt another in that family, Bifur would be there for the wronged party, no matter what titles anyone held.

The urge to deny anything and everything was strong, but the way Bifur was still looking at him made it clear that it was useless. Quite a few of the other crewmembers must have noticed that there was something off about Nori, how he wasn’t as happy as he should be, or how he was at least obviously trying to hide something that bothered him.

Nori slumped down in defeat, curling his body a little as if he was trying to hide. He felt too tired for any of this now.

“Nothing. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nori rubbed his hand over his face, trying to think of what to say. Bifur waited patiently as Nori tried to gather the words to speak.

“It’s that we’re in Erebor. It’s his home, isn’t it? His family is here, and it’s bigger than it’s been in nearly twenty years. I know Thorin would want him to stay as well, and you _know_ Dwalin’s loyal to a fault.”

He paused, breathing slowly as his heart ached with fondness and pain over Dwalin’s loyalty and just the way he was.

“He’ll stay in Erebor but I won’t leave the Wind Dancer for… _this_. I can’t live in a place like this for too long, I know it. Which just means he’ll leave me- the ship. I can’t get it out of my head.”

Bifur thought for a moment as Nori stared at the bottle of wine. A tap on his shoulder made him look up.

“ _Dwalin would not leave the Wind Dancer_.”

“He would, if Thorin wanted him to stay.”

“ _No._ ”

Nori looked up at the stars for a moment. He wished to believe it, he knew that Dwalin loved the Wind Dancer, but he never had to make a choice like that-

“ _You’re falling into darker thoughts, are you not? I tell you, Dwalin would stay._ ”

Bifur shook his head and reached for Nori’s wrist to grab it. His grip wasn’t hard, but Nori knew he’d struggle to get away from Bifur without hurting himself, should the man try to keep him in place.

“ _Have you spoken?_ ” Bifur signed slower, one-handed.

Nori snorted at the thought.

“What, I’m supposed to ask him ‘bout his plans to stay with Thorin when he’s in bed with me?”

As if he wanted Dwalin to also think of that when they were together. As if one of them dwelling on it wasn’t enough.

“ _I can do that for you. Confront him, tell him what hurts you._ ,” Bifur declared, a solemn look on his face.

Nori snorted.

“Do whatever you want, it doesn’t matter, it’ll just make him feel guilty ‘bout the inevitable.”

Bifur let go of Nori’s wrist, just to pat his hand against Nori’s chest instead. He said something without signing along, though it sounded comforting enough, before he got up to pick up his abandoned carving tools and moved to some other part of the ship.

With a sigh Nori picked up his bottle again, and started drinking slower than before, no longer trying to drown himself in it. He leaned his head against the rail, and looked out over the land.

Maybe it was time for a talk with his captain.

 

*

Midmorning sun slipped past the half-closed curtains and Nori groaned at the intrusion of light. He sat on the bed, propped against several pillows, with a blanket wrapped over his shoulders and head, a cup cradled in his shaky hands.

He cursed the outrageous amount of drinks he’d had last night, and he cursed the way his stomach and head were taking their revenge on him. The hangover was one of the worst Nori could remember having in years, and he’d long given up trying to push away all of his blankets each time he suddenly felt too hot.

At least he’d woken up in the palace, curled up on a very soft carpet near a fireplace, cuddling his now empty bottle of wine. Better than ending up on his face in the kitchens or a random hallway for anyone to see him in his shame.

A wash and a change of clothes had helped , as had the lemon, honey, and ginger he’d managed to toss into a teapot to heat up. Nori hadn’t fully registered who’d been there in the kitchen at the time, but at least they had let the pathetically drunk sailor have his peace and allowed him to take the entire teapot and a cup along with him.

Nori moaned quietly as he ignored the painful pull in his stomach and took another sip of the hot beverage.

What had he done to deserve this?

The door opened with a soft creak and Nori wanted to shout at whoever it was, but then he saw it was Dwalin and he pressed his lips together to endure. He couldn’t really kick Dwalin out of what technically was his room too. Besides, when had Dwalin ever been considerate about anyone’s hangover?

His Captain moved mercifully quiet, but he could not hide his chuckle as he saw the bundle of Nori, blankets, and utter misery.

“How much did you drink?” he asked, sitting down at the edge of the bed and kicking off his boots.

“How aren’t you lying in bed suffering,” Nori grumbled. Dwalin looked entirely too put together and awake.

“I didn’t drink half the mead in all of Erebor,” Dwalin said with an eye-roll.

The mattress dipped a little as sad beside Nori. He was talking quieter than usual, kinder than he usually was with his hungover crew members.

Dwalin leaned closer still, bracing himself with one arm and gently reaching out to put his hand over Nori’s forehead. His hand was warm and rough and felt nice against Nori’s skin, and he let out a soft sigh as he leaned into the touch. It was nice to have somebody there for him, instead of having to nurse his hangovers hidden away from light and any living beings.

“Well if you’re going to be sick anywhere, might as well be in a palace in a big fancy bed,” Nori muttered as he closed his eyes and enjoyed Dwalin’s warmth.

Dwalin laughed quietly, his thumb rubbing over Nori’s temple lightly.

“Let that be a lesson for you then. Don’t know how long it will be before you have a big fancy bed to be sick in again.”

Nori hummed a little, thinking of his ship.

“Where will the next journey go to anyway?”

“Dáin asked me if he can hitch a ride on the Wind Dancer to go back to the Iron Hills. He’s sending his soldiers off already, but he wanted to stay for longer to take care of other business, while he’s in the capital already. We might even catch a storm while we’re there.”

Dwalin went on as if it was any other discussion of the Wind Dancer’s travel plans, as if nothing would change. Nori’s eyes squeezed shut a little harder.

“You’re coming along?” he asked cautiously.

“Of course.”

“And… what do we do after? What then?”

It could be that Dwalin wanted to spend some time with his other cousin as well, as the Wind Dancer visited the Iron Hills less often than any other port. Maybe he’d stay after that.

“We can decide together,” Dwalin said gently.

Nori had the feeling that he was being watched closely, but he didn’t want to move much, or shrink away from the stare.

“Is this about Thorin inviting me to live here permanently?”

“Who told-” Nori hissed, before snapping his mouth shut.

His eyes opened and focused on Dwalin, uncaring for how damn bright everything was.

“Bifur,” Dwalin said with a shrug. “He seemed adamant that I need to speak to you about your worrying.”

Nori groaned and leaned forwards to rest his head against the mug in his hands. He had a vague recollection of telling Bifur to do whatever he wanted, and now he regretted it. If he’d had the presence of mind he would have made Bifur promise to keep quiet and let it be.

“Is this why you’ve been so strange about _us_ ,” Dwalin asked softly. “Not because you’re still hurt about what I did?”

He tugged the mug out of Nori’s hands and placed it onto the bedside table. Then he shifted closer, sitting on the bed in a way that would make it easier to lean close and face Nori properly.

“I thought you were going to stay. Cause Thorin’s your king and he wants you to, but I just _can’t_ stay in the capital forever even if he ordered it. Real moodkiller, that.”

Dwalin’s hands grasped at Nori’s shoulders intently.

“The Wind Dancer is my home,” the captain said firmly. “I grew up here, and I would follow most of Thorin’s orders, but this was just an invitation. Nothing more.”

Nori dared glancing up, gaze fixed on one of Dwalin’s buttons. Dwalin’s hand came up to stroke the side of his face gently.

“I don’t want to leave you either. I want to be on _our_ ship, together, as always. It’s not my home without you, is it now? Why would I even _want_ to settle down here if I can sail the skies with the one I love?”

Nori let out a shuddering breath, leaning against Dwalin’s chest.

“Didn’t know you were one for romantic nonsense. You’ll make me blush,” he muttered, more moved by the words than he’d let on.

Dwalin pulled Nori into a light embrace, mindful of how Nori was still trying not to move too much.

“I can’t wait for the Wind Dancer to be ready to fly,” Dwalin said, his voice a quiet rumble. “We’ll have open skies once more, and then I want to take you to the bedroom, as soon as we can be all by ourselves. And I will make love to you for the first time, I’ll pleasure you on my big soft bed till you’re clawing at the sheets, and I will remind you how much I love you with every single thrust and touch.”

Nori whimpered quietly, thinking of that. The warm feeling of arousal pooled low in his stomach as his hands clenched against Dwalin’s shirt, fighting off the simultaneous wave of nausea.

“You can count yourself lucky that I’m too sick to ruin your little fantasy by having you right here,” Nori groaned, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Much as he’d like to, right now the thought of being jostled even the tiniest bit was too much.

Dwalin had the gall to laugh at his predicament.

“You still have about a week to keep yourself from ruining it for yourself, if you want it like that.”

Nori rolled his eyes and leaned back against the pillows again, cursing the drinks of the night before. Dwalin followed his movement to lie down by his side, gathering up the bundle of blankets and Nori.

“If I live through this hangover, I’m holding you to that promise” Nori whined, wondering if death really would come for him with the way his stomach and head were trying to outdo each other.

“Have you eaten anything?”

The thought of food made Nori’s stomach protest, but he shook his head.

“If you want I can go look for something you could keep down in the kitchens?”

“No,” Nori said without even having to consider it. “Come, be my pillow until I fall asleep.”

Dwalin reclined against the pillows, pulling Nori along so he would lie against his chest, warm and comfortable and held secure. 

“Till you’re asleep, and then I’ll find you something to eat,” rumbled the captain.

Nori’s lips curled into a smile as he rested his cheek against Dwalin, hearing his heartbeat clearly.

“Just till I’m asleep,” he whispered, content with cuddling up against his love and not feeling the least bit tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> go here for a sidestory and continuation of this chapter:   
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6547369/chapters/14979262


	53. Epilogue

Kíli had the tip of his pen pressed against the lips, his eyes staring at the same spot of the book’s page for the last ten minutes. It was an interesting book about the history of Durin’s line, and the gifts the Maker had bestowed upon his children. But for now he couldn’t focus on it.

He glanced to the pile of gathered books next to him at his desk. He had been promised that there were even more in the library, should he have questions about anything at all.

It already was a lot to take in. There was still so much for him to learn about the world of which he was now a part.

Kíli stifled a yawn and glanced up guiltily to where the princess sat reading as well. Dís had made herself comfortable in a big armchair with a book on her lap.

She had told her family how much she’d missed being to able to read anything at all when she wanted to. Same as she had missed being able to wear jewels in her hair, or wear gorgeous gowns or at the very least dresses that she didn’t have to make herself using rags or mismatched textiles. Dís usually wore tunics and trousers, not much different from what King - _Uncle_ \- Thorin was wearing, but when there was nothing to be done Kíli would observe her leaving and returning in nice dresses that seemed closer to what he’d imagine a princess to wear.

By now Kíli had grown used to the idea of Dís being his mother, even if the magnitude of being a prince still was hard to grasp. He was a little nervous around Thorin, who’d not given him reason to be, but still was a _king_ which made Kíli want to live up to expectations.

It did not feel like Kíli had to work hard for acceptance and affection from his newfound family members, as all of them were happy about having him around. But they still weren’t quite sure how to treat Kíli, and how exactly he fit in with the families duties to the nation. It seemed like there was nothing expected of him as far as ruling went, or whatever else an heir was supposed to be doing.

Fíli obviously was the crown prince in all he did; following Thorin to council meetings, having his own decisions to make… There was nothing ambiguous about what he was to do.

Only Tauriel and Philip knew of Kíli’s worries entirely, as he was too afraid to disappoint his uncle and mother in any way. Tauriel had listened sympathetically, though there was little practical advice she could give. She herself was the odd one out as well, not technically being mortal at all, nor being related to the royal family by blood or law.

Philip had been a little more helpful in trying to calm Kíli with information.

“They will not expect you to be like Fíli,” he’d promised, when Kíli had approached him with the matter. “You could become a soldier or continue the apprenticeship you had in England, or start something completely new. Nobody would ever fault you for keeping out of courtly matters to focus on a craft.”

It had calmed Kíli for a while, before he started worrying about what he could possibly do with his life and not feel like he was still letting everyone down. The only thing he’d known to do was to try and read up on all he could possibly need to know about Arda, just to prove that he could. And now even that was getting too much. He couldn’t even sit still for an evening to read!

Kíli threw another glance at his mother, to make sure she wasn’t looking his way, and turned to stare out the window instead. He’d have gotten a smack over the head with a book for doing that in school, but at least he didn’t feel like he should be reading as much as when he was blankly staring at a page. 

Unlike so many of the rooms in the palace, this reading room did not appear to be so high above the world. The wide open windows let a lot of light inside, and just below one could see a wide yard, with different plants and trees and winding gravelled lanes with benches here and there. There was a small fountain, and opposite the reading room a tower rose above the yard, where one of the rookeries was contained, as Kíli had been told.

Right now only one person was down there, wandering quietly. Tauriel stood near the fountain, her hand moving over the leaves of some low hanging branches. Much like Kíli, Tauriel preferred to wear similar things as those she’d worn on the Wind Dancer, though today she’d chosen a dress that had been tailored for her along with so much else for Dís, Kíli and Philip. It was a darker shade of blue than the royal colour on the banners of the kingdom, and the tiny crystals embroidered into it made it look much like a starry night sky.

She had spent her time with Sigrid when she wasn’t with Kíli or Fíli, somewhere off in the palace, but by now the ship had left, and Sigrid with it. It upset Kíli to know that Tauriel was probably bored, with no useful work to do.

He half wished that they had gone with the Wind Dancer when she set out. It would have been wonderful to see the Iron Hills, and be on deck with the crew again, just sailing under the sky. But she would only fly for a few more months before winter, and then Kíli and Tauriel would be on the ground, bored once more.

And at the time, it wasn’t as if Kíli wanted to leave his new family.

A sigh escaped Kíli’s lips as he watched Tauriel move below.

The rustling of fabric and the soft thunk of a closing book alerted Kíli to his mother’s movement. He startled and quickly turned back to his own reading as Dís sat down across from him at the desk.

“Is there anything you need help with?” she asked, looking at the page Kíli was reading. “I know, this must be a bit much to take in.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kíli said hastily, too distracted to come up with an actual question regarding what he was meant to read.

Dís raised her brows, lips quirking. Kíli sighed again, shoulders slumping. 

“I’m...having some trouble concentrating,” he admitted, and Dís snorted.

“I doubt I’d have the patience to read as much as you already did when I was your age. Not if the book was about something other than spells at least. It didn’t help that I had two brothers who constantly tried to distract me from my studies. I wasn’t very popular with our tutors, I must tell you.”

Kíli laughed at the idea. Dís enjoyed telling him about all the ways she’d misbehaved as a child. It was refreshing. Kíli had the impression that Dís enjoyed encouraging any sort of improper behaviour, with only a few exceptions. 

She smiled, giving him that strange look that Kíli sometimes didn’t know what to do with. He supposed it must be much stranger for Dís to see her son after so long, than for Kíli to meet his mother for the first time.

“What is on your mind then, tell me?” she asked and reached for the carafe of juice Kíli had been neglecting. “If it’s something you want me to know, of course.”

Kíli nodded and Dís poured them both a drink, handing Kíli a cup. It was iced peach juice; just cool enough to be enjoyable on a warm autumn day, fresh from the greenhouses. He took a sip to decide what he wanted to tell Dís, if anything at all. 

“I don’t know if I want to try and read more,” Kíli said, staring at the books. “For now at least.”

Dís looked at him, waiting for more and Kíli shrugged helplessly. He’d half expected that she’d chastise him for it.

“It all still feels like a fairy tale, but so real at the same time. I can’t quite wrap my head around it. It’s all a bit much.”

Dís nodded at that.

“Philip was the same, though he didn’t try to learn from books as much as you are doing right now.”

“But he was from another world completely while I’ve been _born_ here!” Kíli protested. “I have to try harder.”

He looked down, pressing his lips together and frowning.

There was no reply from Dís for a few moments, but when she spoke she sounded more hesitant than anything else.

“You don’t have to act like Fíli, or as you would have had you grown up here, Kíli. We don’t expect you to gain a lifetime of knowledge right away. Honestly, the fact that you’re going to such lengths to try and understand our ways and histories is very admirable .”

As Kíli didn’t reply to that she went on.

“It… might even be easier learning about the world by actually _seeing_ it more. You could wander the city, or ask Fíli to show you all the places he likes to go when he doesn’t want to be found immediately. Thorin told me that he used to be quite good at hiding when he put his mind to it. That is the way to start feeling at home, really.”

She winked, and Kíli had to smile at it.

“There so much of Arda I want to explore,” he admitted. “Our adventuring was interrupted and there was so much to see…”

He put his chin on his hand, thinking about how much he would have liked to go on travelling with Tauriel and Fíli. Even without a quest it would have been fun.

“I used to always go travelling, did you know that?do that,” Dís smiled. “Youngest child of the heir to the throne, of course I would get bored and eager to test my boundaries. I’d always travel, trying to ditch my attendees and learn new spells, or run away from beasts I enraged on accident. That… happened more times than I cared to admit to my family, but in hindsight they were quite educational experiences, I suppose. That’s actually how I met your father, travelling through a forest. He thought I was a witch, and I have to admit I thought I played the part well.”

Dís smirked as she saw her son’s wide-eyed expression.

“Would you like to do that as well? See the world and travel all over the place? It could be… ‘educational.’”

His shoulders slumped a little as he struggled with a quick answer.

“I… it’s not fair on all of you, though, if I leave so soon after we’re all finally together.”

Seeing Kíli’s uncertainty Dís leaned forwards. She hesitated for a moment as she reached out, but then gently cupped Kíli’s cheek with her hand. It was warm and slightly rough, and Kíli leaned into the comforting touch.

“You are still so very young to be set on something for sure. But no matter what you decide on, you have already achieved so much, and I am proud to see you’ve grown into such a good and honest young man.”

Kíli felt his chest go tight for a moment, but it also seemed as if a weight had been lifted from his mind.

“So I can just… _go_ whenever I want to?” he asked when Dís leaned back into her chair.

“Of course,” she replied. “It takes less than a few hours to fully prepare for a journey, if you’re being practical that is. And there’s still some time before winter sets in.”

Dís glanced out of the window and winked at Kíli again.

“You and your lady love would surely enjoy time for uninterrupted hand-holding and gazing deep into each other’s eyes. Nobody to interrupt you outside the palace.”

Kíli spluttered and felt his cheeks heat up, but his heart beat a little faster at the thought of that. He had a lot of time with Tauriel, sure, but they were never truly alone, and could always be walked in on.

The princess stood then, still smiling as she shook her head.

“If you want to leave as soon as possible, I suggest you go right before sunrise tomorrow. I will see if I can find two travel packs and fill them up for you without a fuss. If anyone is displeased by you two leaving I’ll take care of it.”

Dís hadn’t taken more than a step away from the table before Kíli’s arms were wrapped tightly around her. For a second she froze in surprise, then her arms were around Kíli as well.

She was warm and felt soft to hug, and safe. Dís was a little taller than Kíli, and he could easily rest his head against her shoulder for a moment.

“Thank you,” he said, before squeezing her once and letting go.

Dís smiled softly, a strange expression on her face again.

“I’m glad to be of help,” she said, her voice very soft and quiet.

Kíli bowed his head once, grinning from ear to ear, and then dashed off to tell Tauriel of his plans.

*

Snow had settled over the city in a thick white blanket. The inhabitants of the palace counted themselves lucky that they had enough to keep them occupied indoors, even if it meant they were basically trapped with their politics and paperwork.

It was only just past midday, and already the sky was darkening enough that servants had to hurry around with lamps and candles for all the rooms. Most of the political business was happening in a limited number of rooms now, and the royal family stayed in one part of the palace as well, to conserve their heating and light. The King’s small private kitchen was the one the cooks would use now, to prepare meals for the family and the guests and ambassadors.

It was less hassle, especially now that they had been ordered to prepare the princess’ meals based on the healers’ orders. The Lady Dís was expecting, and hadn’t that been a joyous occasion for a small party already. She seemed quite unfazed by it, going about her day as usual. It was her husband that didn’t seem quite able to contain his joy, and when they were seen together no onlooker could help smiling

Dís had been displeased by the snow, as it meant that walking up to the rockery would be too risky with ice covering the steps. She’d taken to the company of the birds lately, speaking with them at length, and asking for reports on the wellbeing of her strange companion of the past seventeen years.

Despite the news and the changes in the palace lately, Fíli still felt himself stuck in a routine. He didn’t mind, he experienced the standstill of winter every year, but it always made him itch to be somewhere else. Kíli had been lucky, able to sneak off with Tauriel months ago. 

This winter Balin and Ori were there, arrived with the Wind Dancer’s brief return before the ship had sailed away once more. Balin had decided to leave the business in Dori’s hands for a while, deeming her fully capable to demand the authority he was freely given himself. Ori had joined as his apprentice, working quietly in the court just as Balin and Lady Lawara did.

She was good to work with, and Fíli knew that Ori would only grow more clever and better at navigating the court with time. He would certainly love to have her on his council when the time came…

They’d both agreed to be quiet about their relationship and intention to court until the palace and nobles of the capital had grown a little more used to her. And if any servants happened to see them sneaking into each other’s rooms, well, Lady Lawara always made sure nobody felt like spreading any rumors.

Ori had made him fingerless mittens, just a few days after arriving, and Fíli would always carry them around in his pocket, to make sure he wouldn’t lose them. They were a very welcome gift now that the winter was properly settling in.

He’d just been tapping his quill against his lips, pondering how to word a letter he didn’t even want to write, grateful for his warm hands, when Ori entered his study. She would come as often as she could, with small messages and errands, as somewhere along the line somebody had decided that the assistant of the King’s main advisor might as well start working with the Crown Prince. They both found it rather amusing to seek each other out on ‘official business’ and get to chat sneakily, especially after only being able to see each other in person once a year.

This time Ori looked a little confused, and a little serious, indicating that something was the matter.

Fíli had put his things away before she even reached his desk. Ori’s fingers twisted the end of her big woollen shawl, and she furrowed her brow as she stepped closer.

“There was a bird,” she said, looking rather upset about something.

“A Raven with a letter?”

“No, it’s just a message.”

Fíli raised his eyebrow. Usually the birds would go directly to the King or the recipient of the message in that case.

“It wasn’t even one of the palace’s birds, it was a wild raven and they looked quite annoyed about having to fly all the way through the snow.”

That was indeed strange. It was incredibly rare that anyone would use a random raven and get the bird to _please do what it was asked to_. Ravens rarely liked to be used for tasks they had little to no personal interest in.

“So what did it say?”

Ori shrugged helplessly.

“It just demanded that I tell you,” here she took a deep breath, “ _‘Tell him currently at the city gates, there soon. Hope there’s food’_ and I have no idea what that bird meant? Right now it’s looking for the kitchen and won’t talk to me unless it gets food and a reward of any kind.”

Fíli squinted and furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean.

“At the gates…?”

Who and why would want to send a raven to tell him that, and who would be able to talk a bird into doing this in the first place…?

He jumped up from his chair in realization, startling Ori.

“Oh I know! Ori, could you go down to the kitchen and give the raven what it wants, tell the cooks it’s prince’s orders, and ask them to prepare a hot meal for two?”

He could see Ori’s doubtful expression as he hurried past her, quickly grabbing his cloak and hurrying out of the room. Fíli was sure that Ori would understand that there was a reason for him to run off like that.

With the snow piled up all over Erebor’s capital it might take a while to walk all the way up to the palace, but Fíli couldn’t know how long ago the bird had taken flight.

Nobody stopped him as he ran by, until he arrived in the main entrance hall. A few guards glanced his way as Fíli caught his breath and wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, but didn’t question him.

It was cold in the hall, as it was too grand to really bother with heating up. Everyone was wearing warm clothes and furs anyway, so it wasn’t too bad to stay there for a while.

It didn’t take long for the inner palace gates to open. The guards stood a little straighter as Fíli stepped forward to greet the new arrival, and after the first blast of snow he could look into his brother’s face.

Kíli and Tauriel looked like they had been travelling for more than the few months they’d been away. Their clothes were worn and snow clung to the heavy coats and packs on their backs. There were noticeable stitches in the fabric here and there, crudely mended. Tauriel’s hair looked as if she’d chopped it off carelessly, and now it was falling to her shoulder in an uneven length that was obvious even with the wind blowing it around wildly. There was a shallow gash on Kíli’s cheek, angry red and cutting over half his face, which he didn’t seem to mind judging by his wide grin.

They stood hand in hand, smiling hard and looking too roughed up for the fun little journey Fíli thought they were supposed to have, snow blowing in from behind them and all the way to the prince’s feet.

“Brother!” Kíli called out, happy to see him as the gates were being closed behind him. “We’re back!”

“I can see that,” Fíli said dryly, looking them over once more.

He came out to greet them, and at once the two were on him. He grabbed Kíli’s lapels to pull him close and knock their heads together gently, and Tauriel was pulled into a hug as well.

“What have you been up to?” he asked once they had let go of him to take each other’s hands again. “You’re so…”

He gestured at all of them, but Kíli shook his head with a grin.

“We’ll tell you everything once we’ve eaten something _hot_.”

Tauriel nodded in agreement, sighing wistfully at the thought of a proper meal.

“I thought you didn’t need to eat,” Fíli whispered to her, eyeing the guards.

“I don’t need to drink a whole barrel of wine either, but I’m going to do it anyway,” she replied smoothly with a grin.

“As long as you don’t drink the palace dry and run off immediately after. We missed you, Fíli said, trying to keep the sincerity out of his voice.

“Oh, we fully intend to leave again, after winter of course, and this time you’ll be accompanying us!” Kíli said, slinging his arm around Fíli’s shoulder.

“I’m sure mum will cover for us again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sparkle:   
> Thank you so much to all of you for sticking around through this fic. I never expected for it to turn out this big, nor did I expect to ever manage to write such a thing. I'm so happy that so many of you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Hattie:   
> More than a year has been spent working on this fic with Sparkle, and it has been a joy. We created a story beyond what we ever expected when we had our initial 26 chapters planned, and I want to thank every single reader for sticking with us through our journey. Bless you all :) And thank you my darling Sparkle for bringing my silly idea to life.
> 
> Stay tuned for art and sidestories!

**Author's Note:**

> the art
> 
> http://hattedhedgehog.tumblr.com/tagged/ksau


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